


What Friendship Can Do

by AHeartForStories



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Gen, Race To The Edge, Role Reversal, rtte
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-03-16 08:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13632126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHeartForStories/pseuds/AHeartForStories
Summary: Toothless never lost a tailfin and Hiccup never came to mend his wounds. Instead Hiccup loses a leg and Toothless can't seem to be able to kill this one Viking. With one grown distant and cold by betrayal and the other lead by pity and curiosity, one will show the other how healing a little bit of kindness can be. (Httyd&RttE AU) A role reversal type of fic.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. This prologue is going to be pretty generic. It's mainly at the very end where it will really divert from the movie canon.  
> I feel like I should mention that this fic is purely focussed on Hictooth and NOT Toothcup. The couple that will be receiving some spotlight is Hiccstrid, my personal OTP, but weither it will be simply implied or also become a major focus is something I have yet to decide.  
> For now, please enjoy!

Hiccup Haddock the Third was only fifteen years old when he shot down a Night Fury.  
Determined to make his father, the chief of his village, proud and his people accept him, he had created one of many devices to do a job that his scrawny physique simply could not accomplish on his own.  
He sought to kill a dragon, preferably the one no Viking had ever seen before. It was the very same one he had finally managed to shoot down.  
The young boy had fired his bola-shooting contraption during a raid in an abandoned part of town, somewhere away from the dragon and Viking skirmish. He searched the night sky for his target until he had found it and fired in an instance. The backlash had been great, flinging him back a few feet upon activating the device.  
He was sure to have a few bruises and an aching head from its impact with the ground, but it had been worth it when he heard a loud screech as he scrambled to get back up on his feet and watched a black mass crashing down roughly towards Raven Point.  
He had done it.  
After months of planning, creating, and trying, he had finally succeeded.  
Hiccup Haddock the Third, the disappointing runt of Berk, was the first Viking to shoot down a Night Fury.  
If this didn't make this father proud, nothing would.

Nobody believed him. Of course.  
Following his victory, he had told his father what he had done, what his scrawny son had accomplished, but when he tried to tell him, his incredible deed wasn't even acknowledged.  
Granted, immediately after downing the elusive dragon, Hiccup found himself chased by a Monstrous Nightmare and caused even more destruction as he ran away with a most unviking scream and a raging dragon on his tail, allowing the Deadly Nadders his dad had been trying to capture flee the scene when he left to go save his son, but the boy would've liked it if his catch had at least been mentioned.  
A pat on the back would've been nice. So would a simple smile and a 'good job, son!' have been.  
The chief had been angered when another dragon raid had ended even worse than it should've because of his son and so he had neither the time nor the patience to listen, instead lecturing the boy and shouting in front of the entire village of Berk, whoever was present.  
Hiccup was embarrassed at the public shouting, his father's disappointment crushing that small and fleeting feeling of victory he just achieved. He felt like he wanted to vanish into thin air right then and there.  
"Stop! Just... stop." Stoick the Vast had made a quick end to Hiccup's rambling about sending a search party for the Night Fury he had just grounded.  
"Every time you step outside disaster follows. Can you not see that I have bigger problems? Winter is almost here and I have an entire village to feed!" The man had lectured him, using one Hiccup had heard a millions times before.  
The boy had known he was right. His father was the chief and his village came first, even above raising his own son. Hiccup just wanted him to listen for this once.  
"Well, between you and me, the village could do with a little less feeding, don't you think?" Was all he knew to answer, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest as he could feel every eye on Berk burning holes into him. It seemed like sass was his only way to defend himself.  
"This isn't a joke, Hiccup! Why can't you follow the simplest orders?!" The large man had shouted, glaring down at his young son, who fought not to squirm and fidget under his hard gaze.  
"I-I can't stop myself! I see a dragon and I have to just kill it, you know. It's... who I am, dad." The teen had tried to defend himself, tried to make himself sound bigger than he truly felt right at this moment.  
Stoick the Vast let out a deep, audible sigh as he rubbed his forehead and temple with on large hand, his helmet tipping to the side.  
"You are many things, Hiccup, but a dragon killer is not one of them. Get back to the house." He had finished softly, no longer yelling, and ended the conversation with the clear indication that he did not expect his son to talk back to him.  
Hiccup hadn't known just how true those words would end up being.

He had to find it. He just had to find that Night Fury.  
His father hadn't believed him after all. Something he really should've seen coming by now. Admittedly, he had cried wolf more than a couple of times, either on a whim or because he really did believe he had shot one down. That might've had something to do with it.  
After complaining to his mentor in blacksmithing and family friend, Gobber, about his dad, Hiccup had swiftly steeled his resolve and snuck out of the house through the back the moment he had been escorted home and left alone.  
Once again he refused to follow a direct order from Stoick and it was just minutes after he had been publicly lectured about his stubborn inability to follow them.  
The brunette hurried towards the forest, which he knew like the very back of his own freckled hand. Inside laid Raven Point, where he guessed the Night Fury should've crashed to the ground. It shouldn't have been too hard to find.  
Of course, even the Gods seem to hate him today.  
It was the very same question that he had asked out loud to no one in particular when his frustrations over finding that Thor-damned dragon grew to a boiling point. It had proven harder than he thought to find something so large and for a good few moments he even started to believe he just might've imagined the screech and the crashing black mass tangled in the bolas he had fired at it.  
"Some people lose their knife or their mug, but no, not me, I manage to lose an entire dragon?!" His voice raised as he spoke and let his anger be known with only the birds as his witnesses. And as he proceeded to slap a nearby branch away, that action was quickly followed by having it smack him right back in the face.  
'Story of my life.' Hiccup thought as he glared at the branch like it was its fault. He could've sworn that bird chirping up above sounded like it was laughing at him.  
But his attention was quickly drawn by the tree that thin branch belonged to.  
Thick as it was, it had been snapped right in half. It was as if something big had slammed into it and with incredible force.  
Following the broken trunk of the tree, his gaze quickly settled on a deep trench that had been torn violently into the ground. On each side of it stood a couple more broken trees, completely snapped in two aswell. A clear path of destruction had been left behind. Whatever had caused it, it must've been big.  
Perhaps the size of a dragon.  
It was with little reluctance that Hiccup decided to follow the path laid out before him, sliding down into the trench before walking on towards the upwards slope not far up ahead, avoiding the mess of wood and stones.  
Crawling up on the slope, the boy's forest green eyes had only caught a glimpse of something big and black before he instantly dived back down again, seeking a way to hide himself. A surprised gasp had left him, his eyes squeezed shut momentarily as he tried to catch his bearings.  
It was just a glimpse, a fraction of a second, but had he truly seen it?  
Had he finally found it?  
Daring his way back up again, Hiccup peeked and looked towards what had frightened him so. With his mouth agape, he found exactly what he had been looking for all morning and most of the afternoon.  
There, beyond two large rocks, laid the Night Fury he had shot down, wrapped tightly in the bolas he had fired.  
If his heart hadn't already been racing before, it was certainly ready to leap out of his chest now.  
Grabbing his dagger from within his fur vest, nearly losing his grip as he pulled it out in a hurry, he gathered his wits before even trying to approach the downed dragon.  
Sneaking from one rock to the next, several deep breaths had been sucked in and blown back out, he came closer and closer to the dark shape until he finally came out of hiding and found the reptile to be motionless. Completely still. Not even breathing.  
It was his. He had finally done it. The young runt of the village had done it. His victory, his achievement, was real.  
"I did it..." Hiccup muttered as he stood before the lifeless Night Fury, which was much larger than him, and realisation set in with an unfamiliar sense of accomplishment welling up inside.  
"I did it! Oh, this fixes everything!" The fifteen year old shouted enthusiastically, allowing this new feeling of pride to flourish and spread.  
"I brought down this mighty beast!" Quickly did his achievement go to his head as he exclaimed these words loudly and smugly approached the trapped dragon, setting a foot on one of its front legs.  
Turns out it wasn't quite as dead as anticipated.  
Upon the mere contact his foot had made with the scaly skin below, the Night Fury he thought to have died let out an agitated groan and pushed the boy off.  
Startled, Hiccup quickly backed up and nearly tripped over his own two feet. It was only because of the strong stone behind him that he didn't fall completely on his rear.  
He stood there and watched for a good full second, the dragon breathing in and out deeply as if it had been holding its breath until just now, possibly to fool the Viking into thinking it had already been deceased.  
Hiccup could not even contemplate if it was even smart enough to do that as his mind reeled with the fact that the dragon was still alive.  
Still breathing, its heart still beating, maybe not even unconscious.  
The young Viking had to swallow his fear as he approached the enemy, his small dagger clutched tightly into his trembling hands as he inched forward with the blade pointed directly at the beast.  
Approaching it warily, his forest green eyes trailed over the sleek, black body all the way up to its face.  
And noticed a piercingly yellow eye staring straight back at him, its pupil a narrow slit focussed on his small form.  
It was soon after that Hiccup made what he would come to call his greatest mistake.


	2. The Blacksmith's Apprentice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiccup's character, thought I do try to keep him fairly close to his movie canon counterpart, may seem very OOC in this and coming chapters. that will be due to certain events in his life.

Sluggishly waking up early one cold morning, Hiccup Haddock found himself slumped forward on a chair behind his desk. Arms crossed upon a heap of papers scattered about the smooth wooden surface and his head resting on top, his forest green gaze had settled itself on an extinguished candle once his eyes had finally opened. The wick had run all out of wax to melt long ago and so its flame had slowly died overnight.  
The soft morning light came creeping into the room as did the harsh temperatures, chilling him to the bone. Yet, he didn't feel like moving and so simply stared ahead of him instead.  
It was freezing cold in this small room and still he could not bring himself to move an inch, not even to get up and grab a fur vest for warmth. His body, mainly his joints, felt stiff and frozen in place. His neck and back threatened to ache for a good long while from the position he had fallen asleep in, if not for the rest of the day.  
It was punishment after he once again tried to work in his little private workroom in the forge all night, which had become his permanent place of work by now. He had wanted to focus on something a little different than axes, maces, swords, and other weapons with which he worked all day long.  
However, instead he had been spending all his time staring at an empty paper and playing with pencils and whatever else suddenly found themselves in his grasp. The time he could've spend on something useful or on sleep had been carelessly wasted instead.  
His usually ingenious mind has been coming up empty for longer then a few months now. For almost three years in fact. Even the artist within him could not bring himself to draw. Not anymore. It felt like both the inventor inside and his creative side had shriveled up and withered away, like a flower without water or a fire without fuel.  
He stared and stared with a frown etched quite permanently onto his lips. Not a fiber of him wanted to budge. He didn't even have the energy to do so. The freeze could grow worse and he'd still find a lack of motivation to get up and start a new day as a blacksmith, no longer considered to be a mere apprentice and now an essential part of this forge.  
However, with a deep and tired sigh, Hiccup realized that he had no other choice but to stand up from his seat, weither he was too tired to do so or not. The Vikings in the village of Berk would wake up soon and that would mean they expected the forge to be up and running, smoke escaping the chimney up above like every other morning.  
Bracing himself, the now eighteen year old teen pushed himself up from his chair and felt his body complain just like he had expected it to. Stretching every little bit of himself and running a hand through his tousled brown hair for a brief scratch, his spine ached and his muscles cramped. His joints hurt and both his fingers and toes were freezing and numb. He could barely even move his digits they were so cold.  
Sleeping in the forge did truly turn out to be a terrible idea. Hiccup scolded himself silently, but fervently, for this foolish decision.  
Briefly rubbing his upper arms and hands for warmth, Hiccup left his workshop to light up the forge for the day. As the fire gradually build up with his help, Hiccup briefly left to clean up his room in the back before planning to return and take a look at the long list of commissions for today.  
Grabbing papers and stacking them neatly onto eachother to create room on his desk, Hiccup's gaze fell on a peculiar set of drawings he'd made three years ago, shortly before he began losing interest in both inventing and drawing.  
They depicted a large reptile as black as the night itself with wide and strong wings on top of its back. On the front of its flat head were two big and round eyes with slitted pupils. A long tail held what almost looked like a second, less mobile, and smaller pair of wings and two tailfins on the very tip of it.  
The amount of detail in these pictures and their colouring suggested Hiccup had spend a considerate amount of time memorizing every little detail he could find on this animal. His younger self had been quite a curious one.  
Quite gullible too.  
Now that he had the displeasure of viewing them once more, the older teen felt a twinge of resentment well up in his chest upon the very sight of the creature and grimaced at the dreadful memories replaying on his mind's eye all over again.  
He didn't even know he still had these, believed to have thrown them away years ago. He had enough physical evidence to prove its existence. These drawings really weren't necessary to remind him even more.  
So in a fit of anger did he take every single sheet of parchment related to this creature that he could find and took them to the front, stomping over to the fire burning slowly with every intention to burn them right then and there. Drawings, blueprints, everything concerning this Thor-damned reptile needed to disappear. Right here, right now.  
Yet, with the papers clutched tightly in his hand and hovering over the flames eager to burn and scorch everything until nothing but ash was left, Hiccup found himself hesitating.  
Why, oh, why was it so difficult to let go? That monster did nothing but trick and betray him! It was merciless and callous like any other dragon in the Archipelago, just like he had been taught ever since he was but a young child.  
Still, he found himself hesitating.  
His anger growing, Hiccup instead crumpled the papers up into a ball and proceeded to throw them back into the room they came from in a fit, adding to the mess he had been trying to clean just minutes earlier.  
With a defeated huff did he rub in his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose while the other came to rest on his hip. His anger abated slowly and reluctantly.  
There simply was no use in becoming agitated over it now. 'Let bygones be bygones' is what people say, right?  
"This is why, Hiccup. This is exactly why you're a failure in your father's eyes." The young man muttered to himself, scolding his inability to put the past behind him.  
It was still so early in the morning, he hadn't expected anyone to hear.  
"Ah, 'iccup, don't be so tough on yerself. Yer father doesn't think so badly of ye." A voice quite familiar spoke up and broke this lonely silence the boy had been in and Hiccup turned to see his mentor limp in, who was a Viking with only one arm, one leg, and incredibly bad breath by the name of Gobber.  
The man owned the forge where he worked and had been in this profession for a long time even before he was born. Not only had he taught Hiccup all he needed to know about blacksmithing, but he was also a bit of an uncle to him. More of an uncle than his actual uncle Spitelout, that is.  
"Oh, hey Gobber." Hiccup greeted him with a frown, though he hoped his exhaustion wasn't too obvious.  
If he did notice, Gobber wasn't showing it or commenting about it.  
"Ye give yerself too lil' credit, 'iccup. Just 'cause yer father made ye a full-time blacksmith doesn't mean yer a failure in his eyes. In fact, 'e's going out of his way to keep ye safe." The man said as Hiccup moved to take his apron and pulled it on, meanwhile he took a list at the work that needed to be done today himself.  
It wasn't anything special. Just bend swords, chipped axes, hammers, the usual stuff in a war-torn Viking village such as this. If the damage wasn't done by dragons, it was done in a fight with the Outcasts. Although, he did spot one of Mildew's farming equipments on the list and felt another sigh escape at the thought of the old man.  
Hiccup honestly didn't know which was worse.  
The dragons that came raiding his home for cattle every other week and forcing them to sometimes survive on leftovers of leftovers for days. The Outcasts with a chief who sought vengeance on Berk's, who happened to be Hiccup's father, Stoick the Vast, and had yet to give him a reason why this fued was happening. Or Mildew, who's current only joy in life, besides his strange affections for a sheep named Fungus, was to make Hiccup's miserable.  
Briefly did the teen wonder if he could somehow make the tool, a shovel, only seem fixed as he grabbed it from the pile, but then figured he'd be giving the man even more reason to visit and complain this way.  
Instead he shoved the shovel at the bottom of the pile and figuring the old man could wait until the long list before him was dealth with. Hiccup decided to focus on the topic of discussion.  
"Yeah, I'm sure that's what my dad meant when he announced that I would be a great candidate to take over the forge someday and mysteriously stopped all of my training as heir. Ten whole years gone to waste." Hiccup replied sarcastically and briefly faced his mentor before taking a sword in need of sharpening.  
At least that was something he was good at. Sarcasm.  
"'e said blacksmithin' was an 'onourable job." Gobber stated curtly with his brows furrowed. Any other man would've found some offense in Hiccup's insinuation that theirs was but a lowly profession.  
"Yes, to lure me into a false sense of security and hope I wouldn't notice his utter disappointment." Hiccup was quick to answer as he brought the sword over to a grindingstone and grabbed the handle to make it turn and spin.  
This time it was Gobber's turn to sigh, unable to come up with a suitable response as he knew that to be the truth. Stoick had been disappointed and he had been trying to convince himself, his son, and the rest of the Hooligans that there was nothing wrong with their heir becoming a smithy instead of a chief.  
That decision had hurt. Years of training and preparing had been in vain, all that effort Hiccup had put into proving himself had become meaningless. It was honestly just another reason for his deep-rooted hatred for that dark dragon to grow.  
That dragon, that Night Fury, it was the sole reason why he was now such a disgrace in the eyes of his village, a disappointment with no chance of redeeming himself. It was why now even his own father had finally given up on him.  
Hiccup Haddock the Third. The first Viking in their three hundred years of Berkian history who could not kill a dragon. The first heir to lose his right, his privileges, his future as chief of Berk. Even his fifteen year old useless self before he caught the thing would've been held in higher regard than him now.  
Gobber decided to speak up again when they each had a weapon to fix. The man grabbed a hammer to replace while the teen worked on sharpening the dull blade.  
"Ah, 'e just wants to protect ye." Upon hearing this, Hiccup let his eyes roll.  
As if the elder blacksmith could see his reaction did he continue, though his back was turned to the boy. He spoke with a strange tone to his voice.  
"You kno', there's no shame in fearin' dragons, 'iccup. Not after what they did to ye. First your mother and then..." The sound of the grinding and grating of the grindstone stopping and metal clanging to the ground is what drew Gobber to turn and look up to the boy. His eyes gazing back at Hiccup's glaring ones.  
One bright green, the other a lifeless and cloudy grey.  
The cause lied with the thin, ugly, and jagged scar that ran through his right eye from his cheek to his forehead in an arch, hidden partially by his bangs. It cut straight through his eyebrow too and it wasn't the only one present on his person.  
This one painted the right side of his face with the reminder of a story everyone on Berk was aware off, a story small children would be told to warn them of the dangerous monsters that lurked within the fog of Helheim's Gate, the Unholy Offspring of Lightning and Death Itself.  
It was the tale of how a young boy foolishly trusted a dragon and paid a heavy price.  
They were put there deliberately by the beast. Though only fleshwounds, it had been enough to blind him in that eye and there had been nothing their village healer, Gothi, could've done to restore his sight. There were also many more that littered his body beneath the red tunic and the green leggings that he wore, constant remembrances of what had happened three years ago, when his life had begun its slippery slope downwards.  
This whole mess had started with a boy and a dragon.  
"I finished dragon training, Gobber." Hiccup spoke as he turned to fully face the other Viking, no longer just glaring from over his shoulder. The sword was still in his hand, the tip of the blade dug into the ground.  
"I won the honour to kill the Nightmare fair and square. I was so close to becoming a real Viking! If that Night Fury hadn't.... hadn't done... that.... the night before the kill, everything would've been just fine." He added in an attempt to convince his mentor that he did not fear dragons, that everything would have turned out the way it was supposed to if it weren't for that one particular reptile.  
"'iccup." Gobber said his name with the shake of his head, but the boy didn't let him continue.  
"It's the truth! If I was just given another chance to prove myself after I recovered-" His mentor didn't allow him to finish that sentence either and cut him off.  
"'iccup! Almost every raid after the attack you cowered in yer room in fear of hearin' the Night Fury's howl again, scared it might come back someday to finish the job." The man reminded him. He still vividly remembered the already small and bandaged form of his frightened young apprentice turned even smaller as he huddled in a corner while the battle raged on outside of the safe confines of his house.  
At the time, Stoick, unable to forgive himself for letting that creature hurt his one and only son and leave him for dead, had allowed him to cower in fear and lock himself in his room during every raid. Hiccup had been perfectly fine with this. At first.  
But as the time passed, it had quickly become clear what nearly losing his son in such a brutal manner had done to the man.  
Growing overprotective of the boy, he had fed into Hiccup's want to stay away from dragons to the point of going out of his way to make sure the teen didn't need to be put in such dangerous situations anymore.  
It wasn't at all the Viking way, but Stoick had already lost Hiccup's mother, Valka, when the boy was only a few months old. Now that he had been so close to losing another loved one, 'the Viking Way' was the last thing he worried about. He refused to let the dragons take someone else from him.  
Unfortunately, it was a problem to everyone else in the village, Hiccup included. The old blacksmith wasn't a part of that.  
"Stoick and I don't always see eye to eye when it comes to ye, but he was right in his decision. Don't question the chief, 'iccup." Gobber ended the conversation with that and resumed his work on the hammer. He didn't expect this topic to be opened again.  
"Gobber."  
"I don't 'ear that grindstone going, 'iccup." Was his single reply and the apprentice begrudgingly decided to continue with his own work. There was no room for argument.  
With a deep frown plastered on his face, his eyes narrowed, and eyebrows furrowed in anger did he go back to work on sharpening the blade of the sword he still held. Hiccup had only one dark thought running through his head.  
 _'That Night Fury will come back someday. When it does, I will shoot it down again and this time I won't hesitate.'_


	3. The Daily Drag

The rest of the day was spend working in the heat of the forge in complete silence. The moment Gobber closed off an apparently sensitive topic, the two worked without another word spoken. The mentor because he was too busy humming a happy tune and his apprentice because he was simply brooding instead.  
But still work remained unbroken as the two blacksmiths took care of their entire list of repairs while time ticked by slowly, just like every single other day for Hiccup on Berk. Working, sweating, occasional breaks, like a drag did his daily routine continue on with nothing to look forward too except for a warm meal and his bed in the comfort of his own home.  
After the night he spend in his workroom in the back of the forge, that was something he looked forward too.  
Hiccup wouldn't have minded this routine so much, he really wouldn't have. He loved working in the forge and keeping his hands busy with either big metal and wooden chunks or small and fine details, his mind occupied with either his own thoughts or the task at hand. And when his mentor, Gobber, wasn't present for a little while, like he wasn't at the moment, it provided him with some needed privacy too.  
The teen enjoyed it, found it to be a way to clear his mind and spend his time doing something useful for his village. It was why, out of all the professions his father could've given to him on small Berk, he was glad it had been this. At first a dad's way to build some muscles on his scrawny boy, it was now something he had truly come to love doing.  
That was the reason Hiccup didn't mind so much, wouldn't have minded so much, if it wasn't for one single thing.  
Or rather, one single person.  
"Yeah, I'm totally gonna nail it as heir."  
Snotlout.  
People might say it's a mere coincidence, but Hiccup knew better when he heard that voice dripping with smugness and looked up to see a dark-haired man of his age walking by his place of work, followed closely behind by two lanky blonde figures that looked almost exactly like eachother save for a few differences.  
Snotlout Jorgenson was a stout teenager. What he lacked in length, he made up for in size and had the second broadest shoulders in their age group after Fishlegs, another boy they had Dragon Training with. He wasn't the brightest one around, a true Hooligan one would even say, but had the muscles and strength to make sure a brain wasn't what he needed.  
The two following him were Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, a pair of identical twins. Both blonde-haired, tall, lean, and neither of them smart besides a few bright moments, what made them stand out was their ability to get in trouble. On purpose. It had been no surprise when the two announced they'd devote their lives to Loki, the Trickster God.  
"Those Outcasts are not gonna know what hit them when I finally become chief. And the dragon raids? They won't be a problem either." He boasted loud enough to make sure Hiccup could hear and the brunette decided that it was still much too early in the afternoon to be dealing with Snotlout.  
Then again, when was a good time to deal with a Jorgenson? Or any Jorgensons for that matter?  
"Yeah, sure they won't. What's going to keep them away? Your devilishly good looks? Last I checked, you haven't downed or killed a dragon yet, Snot." It was a rare occurence to hear either twins say something that made sense, but these moments did exist and this time it was Tuffnut who questioned Snotlout's claims.  
"Yeah, none of us have! The only one who's ever come close is Hiccup. You were beaten by Scrawny, Snot."  
"Shut up, Ruffnut." The dark-haired man oh so cleverly responded.  
The hissing tone his cousin finished with would've made his day better as an attempt to get under Hiccup's skin backfired, but that was shortlived.  
"At least when I down a dragon, I won't try to befriend it and get my ass kicked instead!" The slightly embarrassing slip-up from seconds earlier now restored, Snotlout send the brunette a smug and taunting smirk.  
Hiccup briefly wondered in how much trouble he'd be in if he grabbed this hammer he was holding and threw it. Preferably at his face.  
Probably more than Snotlout was worth it.  
"Don't listen to him, Hiccup. Snotlout is just being an idiot. Again." Any further comments about grave mistakes made three years ago went unheard the moment a fair blonde Viking girl put herself between the two boys, shielding Hiccup's view of the taunting self-proclaimed new heir.  
Oh, Astrid Hofferson. How could he ever even begin to describe her? Her beauty was only matched by her sheer strength and skill with an axe, capable of flipping a grown man over her own shoulder with her bare hands. She was the most promising warrior out of all six of them, a true asset to Berk.  
How she became somewhat of a friend of his is something Hiccup would never understand.  
There had once been a time she was simply indifferent towards the boy, even often seen shaking her head in disapproval of Snotlout's tendency to pick on his smaller cousin and the twins gladly helping him.  
But then came a brief time the brunette could have been called popular when he seemed to excel at dragon training three years ago. When even his three bullies had started accepting him, she had hated him, had seen something that other Berkians, blinded by his new and sudden success, could not seen.  
Astrid had worked hard to be as good as she was, had trained as often as she possibly could to become the warrior she needed to be to bring honour back to her family name and protect those she cared so deeply about. In her goal to become the best of the best, she had put blood, sweat, and tears.  
So to see this scrawny runt of a Viking become so good in dragon killing school completely out of nowhere and with seemingly little to no effort had rubbed her the wrong way. Astrid was the only one who could see something just wasn't adding up.  
Whenever Hiccup Haddock had disappeared into the forest to meet with the dragon he had 'befriended' and to escape his newfound popularity, she had tried time and again to follow him and expose the truth of his newly gained skills. She knew somebody just had to be teaching him, had to be helping him cheat.  
If only she had succeeded. It would've saved him a lot of pain, trouble, and heartache.  
After the attack, her resentment for him had soon dwindled away. Almost immediately upon hearing just why a barely breathing boy had been rushed to Gothi's all bloodied and in the tattered rags that were once his clothing, Astrid's previous dislike had left her.  
She, too, had then believed him to be misled by the Night Fury, who was now also known to be a devil capable of playing with the minds of men.  
Hiccup could still hear the whispers behind his back even now.  
Poor Hiccup. Poor naive little boy. Tricked by a Night Fury. So lonely and desperate he'd rather associate himself with the enemy. Undone by the pressure to keep up with his peers and what it means to be heir, he foolishly thought he had found acceptance with a mindless beast. It had been such a tempting idea, he was seduced by it even!  
Yes, the former heir of Berk was now not only completely useless in battle, but he was now also the village nut too.  
No one in Berk could question his smarts. Though he's lacked the brawn since birth, his way of handling things with his brain was something no one doubted. But as Gobber once said, his way made grown men uncomfortable.  
Being tricked by a dragon wasn't smart.  
But Astrid wasn't like the others. She didn't look at him in pity, she knew there was something in him that was worthwhile, worth keeping safe.  
Because that's what she's been doing the past three years.  
Astrid always had a more protective side to her, but after the attack, with her ill feelings forgotten, she had taken it upon herself to protect him. As a warrior, that was her duty. To defend the defenseless.  
With her protective nature, she might've even felt an irrational guilt for letting his 'friendship' with the elusive creature go that far, having been the only one to notice something was off. The boy's cousin, his father, his mentor, no one noticed. A part of her had felt like it had been her fault, that she could've done anything to help instead of jumping to conclusions.  
Time spend together to keep him safe from further harm at the claws of dragons had helped the two grow closer. What had once started out as a personal duty, was now something the young woman did for a close friend, to keep a loved one safe.  
Hiccup could only wish he had some way to return the favour.  
"Oh, was that Snotlout? I hardly noticed." The brunette responded, now focussing more on his work instead of his cousin's successful attempts at riling him up. The warhammer he had been trying to fix was quickly dealt with, the damage to the weapon quite minimal.  
Astrid allowed a smile to appear on her face at his comment as she entered the forge and looked at some of the shields hanging on the wall. After all the time spend here with Hiccup, she no longer needed an invitation. Not unless it was about Hiccup's personal study out in the back.  
"You know, Hiccup, I'm not particularly a fan of Snotlout either, but he's actually not as bad as he used to be when we were kids." Mismatched eyes moved to settle on her back when Hiccup had been taking another look at the quickly disappearing list of commissions, confusion clear on his face.  
"You could say he's... finally growing up? I guess?" The blonde didn't meet his gaze, instead observing the intricate details and care put into the shields either Hiccup or Gobber had made.  
One of them was quite dusty, which obviously hadn't been receiving as much care as the others.  
It was also a wooden shield, but one of a more unconventional kind. Though quite ordinairy at first sight, it was supposed to also have a built-in catapult, a bola-shooter, and a grappling hook. That's what the blueprints for this object had said.  
When Hiccup told her about it after she had once asked what was so special about this particular one, Astrid hadn't seen a more cleverer invention before. It was deceiving, it could be used for both offense and defense, and it was the perfect tool to surprise your foe in battle.  
Unfortunately, it was a project he never finished.  
Now it was fated to sit there and collect dust, only hoping it would one day be finished by its maker.  
If the very faded painting of a Night Fury on its wooden surface had any say in it, it won't be.  
"Are you, Astrid Hofferson, trying to justify Snotlout's arrogant behaviour?" Hiccup asked her this question with his hands on his hips, turning to face her with more than a little suspicion.  
Sighing, she took her attention away from the special shield and looked back at him aswell.  
"I... I guess I am." She said, her shoulder's shrugging, but not in a nonchalant kind of way. She knew how bad it sounded.  
She also knew how he felt about his cousin, how their relationship, though it had been better for a brief time, had taken another tumble downwards after some recent developments that aided in Hiccup's growing frustrations and Snot's bigger ego as of late. The latter had never been all that great at understanding subtlety.  
"And that doesn't just so happen to have anything to do with Spitelout's claims that dad finally found a replacement for me? This is a small village, Astrid. That kind of news spreads fast. Especially when Snotlout's evolved." He tried not to let his resentment show too much.  
"Well..." Another sigh left her as Astrid quickly realized there was no use in pretending otherwise.  
"Listen, I know it can't be easy to hear Spitelout brag and boast about his son and it really doesn't help that Snotlout caught on and goes out of his way to rub it in your face." She changed her mind about justifying the actions of a guy she didn't particularly liked herself.  
"Astrid, if this is going where I think it's going..." Hiccup didn't want to hear it, but the blonde didn't seem to particularly care.  
"But I think your dad was honestly trying to keep his decision private. You know that handling such delicate matters in secrecy isn't exactly the 'Viking Way'. Some people just don't know how to keep a sercet." Instead she continued to speak while wearing a sympathetic look on her features.  
"Wow, everyone is just so sure what my dad 'means', don't they?" The brunette voiced his displeasure, recalling a very similar conversation he had that morning as he grabbed Mildew's shovel, not able to put it off for any longer.  
This was a very recent occurrence. Lately, people closest to him were trying to convince him that his father meant well with the decisions he's made. Those people consisted of Gobber, the blonde now keeping him company, the man himself, and sometimes even Fishlegs.  
That had been another change in his life.  
The husky young man hadn't been all that friendly to him for years either, though his form of 'taunting' had been giving Hiccup the simple and old stink eye because that was as far as he dared to go, but that, too, had changed when the former heir had started excelling at Dragon Training out of nowhere.  
After the Night Fury incident, the bigger boy hadn't allowed that kind of distance to return between them. They weren't as close as Hiccup was to Astrid, but he was at least thankful to have kept a friend whilst Snotlout and the twins drifted far away from him again.  
"He's trying really hard for you, Hiccup." Astrid was just another person attempting to make him see what they could apparently all see. All except for him.  
"Of course, and yet when I ask him about it, he still won't tell me a thing." As he observed the shovel in his hands, said young brunette still argued back to her.  
"Well, he is stubborn." The Hofferson stated. After all, that was a trait every Viking man, woman, and child seemed to share.  
"Too stubborn for his own or my own good." Hiccup muttered under his breath in return, forgetting that he could be much too hard-headed himself.  
Seeing that the metal of the farming tool was simply too rusty and worn to be of further use, the blacksmith decided that it was most likely a good idea to simply replace it. At least the wooden shaft itself was still in pretty good condition. The whole shovel wasn't a complete ruin.  
"He just wants to keep you safe and healthy." The fact that her friend was in the middle of working on what looked to be one of Mildew's stuff didn't let Astrid stop her from continuing this conversation. Even despites knowing that the man had a knack for complaining about the smallest of problems.  
There was a reason why the old man's house was build so far outside of town.  
"Funny. That's exactly what Gobber claims too." What was it the old blacksmith with bad breath had told him just hours ago?  
_'Ah, 'e just wants to protect ye.'_ He could hear it with his heavy accent and everything.  
"Because it's true, Hiccup." Astrid seemed to agree with Gobber, much like everyone else in his life seems to be. It did little to help the anger he felt growing within.  
It was always there, boiling silently in his veins, never leaving him alone and plaguing him wherever he went. It did his peace of mind little good.  
It wasn't at all like him to hold a grudge, to hold this much anger inside, to have a temper his loved ones weren't familiar with. He used to be too forgiving for his own good, one more addition to the long list of traits that worried his father long ago, but in a way it had been admirable. Not a typical Viking trait, but still enough to be admired.  
That new temper was flaring now too, rivaling the short fuse Astrid was currently trying to keep under control.  
"By wasting years of work, coddling me so much I feel like I might suffocate, and taking away any opportunity to prove myself to my own people? Does that sound fair to you, Astrid?!" It was still a strange kind of thing to hear him raise his voice to anyone, let alone a loved one, but it was what he did now.  
Astrid didn't let that stop her.  
"Can you blame him?! He's a father who nearly lost his son! In a brutal way! And you won't push this Night Fury out of your mind when it hasn't even been heard from for the past three years! You know he's already lost your mother. He just doesn't want to lose you too." Her voice matched his, without a doubt drawing the attention of everyone who might be outside.  
If Snotlout and the Thorston twins, Ruff and Tuff, were still outside, they could very well be watching too.  
Though previously trying to wrench the rusty part of the shovel loose, Hiccup took a good long moment to glare at the young Viking woman before he spoke again. She had hit quite a sensitive note this time.  
"Thank you for reminding me, her son, that she's gone, Astrid. That was really appropriate." His tone, though no longer so loud, still betrayed the anger and hurt he felt.  
Hiccup couldn't remember his mother because she had been taken when he was so young, but had she still been alive and with him, his life would've probably played out very differently.  
Brushing her blonde bangs out of her eyes, Astrid did recognize the mistake that she made and let a few seconds of silence pass between them as she let the lean young man work, knowing she had hit a soft spot with her words.  
Sometimes they could be even sharper than her mother's axe, a weapon which had been so lovingly bestowed onto her years ago when the time for her to attend Dragon Training was approaching.  
"You're missing the point." She did eventually spoke up again when Hiccup made quick work of replacing the head of the shovel with a spare piece still lying around the forge.  
"Don't I always?" This was muttered under his breath too, but Astrid did not fail at picking up on the slight sarcastic tone.  
In the name of Odin, if he was going to start being sassy again...  
"Hiccup, for Thor's sake, just-" The one cut off this time was Astrid herself.  
"Just stop, Astrid. Stop trying to make everything sound okay when they're not, when they haven't been for three years already. The more you, Gobber, and dad try to convince me, the less I believe it. So just drop it." Hiccup turned to face her again, brows dipped angrily and a deep frown present.  
His ruined eye was always so distracting, so hard to look away from.  
Growing selfconscious at her staring, he quickly looked away, tousled brown bangs just not long enough to cover the scar tissue. He held a lock of his auburn brown hair thoughtfully.  
A final sigh left her lips and Astrid realized it was time to leave.  
She had come here to check in with her friend, see how he was doing as another long day at the forge was slowly coming to an end, reminding him that Snotlout Jorgenson was still an idiot already on her mind when she had noticed the trio of troublemakers purposely standing in Hiccup's line of sight.  
A heated discussion with a bitter man is not what she signed up for.  
"Fine, I'll leave. But don't think this discussion is over, Hiccup. It's time that you forget about that dragon and let go of the past. This isn't like you." She thought it best to let things cool down for a little while and with these final words did she leave the forge.  
Hiccup liked Astrid, he really did and probably more than he should. He would always feel grateful to be able to call her one of his few friends, but sometimes he could do without her company.  
Placing Mildew's broken shovel down, he rubbed in his eyes as he felt a headache brewing, minding the sensitive skin on the right side of his face.  
Of course, Hiccup was aware that she only meant well, that she simply couldn't stand to watch him torture himself over the past, and it made him feel guilty for snapping at her like that. At her and Gobber alike.  
She was right, it wasn't in his nature to get snappy so easily, to hold a grudge against anyone weither they were man, animal, or dragon.  
But how could he let go of hatred rooted so deeply? He hadn't been torn apart by that despicable Night Fury solely on the outside alone.  
It was hard to let go.  
Each time he tried, it felt like he held on even tighter.  
Glancing back out of the forge now that Astrid had left, Hiccup caught a glimpse of his cousin Snotlout, who apparently had watched the entire argument take place. Ruffnut and Tuffnut had already moved on with their lives.  
He wore an expression Hiccup couldn't quite read and it unnerved him, but the dark-haired man soon went about his usual business.  
Now alone and finally left in peace, Hiccup continued to work, his mind sure to continue to mull for hours to come over his less than pleasant talk with one of the few friends he had ever known.


	4. From Bad to Worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone had given me the idea that Hiccup might have some PTSD from his traumatic experience as a young teenager. Though I don't think I can do the disorder justice, it was interesting to play with the idea a little.  
> Also, I should probably point out that I don't own How to Train Your Dragon the movie, the tv-shows, or the book series. As awesome as that would be, I only own this fic.  
> And now on with the chapter.

Yesterday hadn't been the best day for Hiccup.  
It had started out with a pleasant argument between him and his mentor blacksmithing, then moved on to another delightful session of taunting from one Snotlout Jorgenson, and closed with a truly joyful conversation with Astrid about topics he'd rather not discuss but everyone was simply so obsessed with bringing up around him.  
There was also the fact he had to personally deliver Mildew's order back to his house way outside of Berk, extra work the man requested purely out of spite, but thankfully the man hadn't been home at the time of the delivery. It was what he had called a lucky break.  
Once he could finally close down the forge for the night, he returned home to his bed while hoping to avoid his dad. He had expected the man to be sitting in front of the fire like every other evening, stoking it with a fireplace stoker in thought.  
Often enough the sight would be accompanied by a block of rapidly melting ice pressed against his temple to combat the pounding headache still growing. A deep frown on the man's face as a clear indication that his father's day hadn't been the best either. Chiefing could be quite troublesome, particularly in a Viking village like theirs.  
But when he entered their home, the man wasn't there. It seemed like his father hadn't returned from his duties just yet.  
Hiccup had felt a little comforted by the fact that his peace could continue for a little while longer and made his way up the stairs to his room. He hoped for an easy night's rest.  
However, his tired body had barely even hit the hard wooden boards of his bed before the loud warning horn of their village signaled the start of another raid and Hiccup promptly wondered if the Gods were especially displeased with him today.  
"Hiccup!" Upon hearing his father's voice calling him from downstairs following the front door roughly being thrown open, the teen pushed himself back up again and left his room to quickly go down the stairs. Looks like no one would be getting a good night's rest tonight.  
Stoick the Vast had always been an intimidating sight of a man. Tall at a staggering seven feet and just as broad, he carried a presence that would make a lesser man curl up and cry. His sole trait more fiercer than his booming voice or hair and beard as vibrant as fire, was his sense of duty as chief of Berk.  
Hiccup met the man as he was already wearing his horned helmet and holding his signature weapon of choice in one hand. It was an axe with intricate designs made on its surface.  
In his other he held a sword, which he handed to Hiccup as soon as the young man set foot on the groundfloor. As the blade was pushed into his hands, he took it without question and looked up to his father. A sigh was already threatening to be released.  
"The blasted beasts have come to raid us again. Hiccup, while I'm out there fighting for the village, I trust you to keep our home safe." The Viking chief told him and his son had to bite his tongue to keep any snide comments from leaving.  
"Dad, the forge-" Instead the brunette tried to remind him of his duty as a blacksmith, but he was quickly cut off by a Viking often just as unwilling to listen as he was.  
A heavy hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing tightly. Hiccup couldn't quite tell if it had been meant to be commanding or reassuring.  
"Hiccup, don't set a single foot outside of this house and only engage if you have to. When the raid is over, I expect to return to see both you and our home still in one piece. Good luck, son." Brief instructions for his only child was all Stoick had the time for as the horn sounded again and the urgency to be out there and help his people grew.  
Sword already clutched tightly in one hand, he watched the large shape of the man leave through the front door to fight for the men, women, and children of his village.  
At least there was still one responsibility his father entrusted him with.  
House sitting.  
With a battle cry did Stoick the Vast engage the nearest dragon, a Gronckle which threatened a young boy, and the front door fell back closed behind him.  
Hiccup dropped down on the stairs with a frustrated sigh as he was once again left to listen to the raid raging on outside when he should be out there with everyone else. Shouts from Vikings and roars from the dragons, as loud as they could come, filled his ears. The sword he had never been trained to handle fell with a clatter to the wooden floor.  
This was a near weekly thing and the Berkians were used to this, but that didn't make this right. He wasn't supposed to sit around and do nothing.  
Stoick was aware his son could barely defend himself. He had gotten stronger than his much smaller fifteen year old self by continuing his work in the forge and could now hold the heavy weapons with utter ease in one hand, but still had no idea how to use them effectively in battle. Giving him this 'responsibility' was simply a way to keep him out of danger and out of the way.  
Out of sight, out of mind, right?  
At least like this Stoick didn't need to needlessly look after his own son too.  
While it was obviously a gesture done by a protective father, everyone was out there risking their lives. Including teens even younger than him of the new fire crew under the lead of Gustav Larson. He had effectively been ordered to stay inside like a coward and be a burden to his village instead.  
It is true that he had been told to stay inside for as long as he could remember. And like Gobber had said, for a while he had no qualms about avoiding danger, if just to be safe from that Night Fury. But he was eighteen now. In other words, he was a man in the eyes of his tribe. He could no longer afford to be mere dead weight.  
He was expected to go out there and fight until his very last breath, to hold his position at the forge, defend the village from the scourge of dragons they were all facing, redeem himself as the heir of Berk before Snotlout could run away with his birthright for good.  
Instead he had to stay here on orders of his overbearing old man and was told to become unwanted extra weight when there was finally some way he could help and be of use without causing more destruction than the dragons themselves.  
He could help. He was of use now. To think that his father, the chief who was supposed to have all of Berk's best interest at heart, was telling him to stay out of it after years of disappointment with his runt of a son trying in vain to proof he could pull his own weight in this village, was incromprehensible.  
Stoick didn't want to lose his son and only child. That was what Astrid had said and Hiccup had no reason not to believe her, but this was doing more harm than good too.  
His father wouldn't always be there to protect him. He couldn't always depend on his old man on the slight chance that things might end badly.  
Hiccup supposed it was a good thing he never learned to listen.  
Picking the sword up from the floor, the brunette jumped up from the stairs to lunge for the front door and threw it open, escaping from his own house and making a beeline straight for the forge.  
His father would certainly not be pleased with his disobedience once he found out, and he will find out, but this was something he had to do. As a blacksmith, he had his impeccable skills to offer. At least this way he could still help.  
He knew where he was needed.  
Dodging fighting Vikings and raiding dragons left and right, Hiccup ran as fast as his two legs could carry him. He ducked underneath the claws of a swooping dragon just in time, evaded being set on fire by a Deadly Nadder with his dark green tunic still singed at the hem, and narrowingly escaped a stray slash of a sword, but despites the danger still kept on going.  
The high and massive torches to light up the sky and keep the dragons from hiding in the darkness of the night were already set ablaze. The young fire crew lead by Gustav Larson, a group of about four to five other fourteen to sixteen year olds, was dousing the flames. His father was heard shouting orders even through the loud noises plaguing his eardrums.  
It was pure and utter chaos all around him, made even worse in the long shadows created by the dim light of fire.  
Out of the corner of his left eye he noticed Astrid successfully fending off a Nadder as he passed and saving a small family trapped inside their burning house, but he kept on running. She might've called his name, but Hiccup was honestly much too set on reaching the forge.  
He could already see it up ahead, could see Gobber working hard to meet up to the demands on weaponry and shields, could even hear Berkians urgently ordering him to move faster. Hollering and whistling without end. If the blacksmith wasn't such a busy man and this wasn't such a dire time, he would've taken a moment to club a few of them with his very heavy stone hammer.  
Hiccup was almost there. Gobber already flashed him a smile, spotting his lean shape between the other burly Vikings of Berk.  
And then he heard it.  
The whistling sound of a Night Fury in full flight.  
Hiccup froze in place immediately. His eyes widened, his heart stopped beating, his next breath got caught in his throat, any coherent thought was instantly lost. He didn't move, he didn't breathe, he could barely even think.  
In that moment, only one single thought ran through his mind.  
 _'It came back for me.'_  
Panic set in and chased common sense away. If he wasn't absolutely frozen in fear already, he just might've curled up and cried. What a perfect picture of a Viking he was.  
 _'It came back.'_  
It kept on relentlessly repeating in his mind without end, torturing him with memories he didn't want to relive.  
 _'It came back.'_  
He could already feel the sharp claws cutting into his face and torso, could feel the teeth digging painfully into his arm, the heavy weight pinning his teenaged scrawny body down suffocating him and making any sort of escape impossible, his voice crying out for help until his throat was sore and any sound made by him hoarse and inaudible.  
Even now escape was improbable.  
Hiccup had no idea for how long he had been standing there frozen in the midst of chaos, but it was right in the path of a raging Monstrous Nightmare and he was pulled out of the way in just the nick of time. One second later and he would've been engulfed in flames and would've died screaming.  
His green and ghostly pale eyes came to rest on Astrid's bright blue ones. His saviour. Right now she was worried, that was what her gaze and furrowed brows told him, but he knew he would have to face her wrath later.  
"Hiccup, answer me! Are you okay?!" The fierce blonde had apparently been asking him how he was feeling and he had been completely tuning her out by mistake, his shaking self unable to register anything right now.  
"What're you doing?! You almost got yourself and Astrid killed!" It was Snotlout that pulled him out of his trance next by stomping up to him and giving him an angry shove for almost dying, quickly followed by his father as he came between them and took his son's shoulders in a vice grip and wordlessly commanded Hiccup return his glare.  
"Hiccup, what're you doing out?! I told you to stay inside!" The man shouted in anger, fear having wrapped its cold and relentless hand around his heart and squeezing without remorse upon seeing his own son be nearly taken in such a gruesome way. What was the boy even doing out?  
Now free from the clutches of his nightmares, Hiccup's gaze hastily swerved all over the skies in search of the offending creature that haunted both his dreams and his every waking moment.  
But it was nowhere to be found.  
There had been no blast following the haunting whistling sound, no dark shape flying past and aiming for Berk's defences, no creature taking him away to finish what it had started long ago.  
There was no Night Fury. It had all been a figment of his overly active imagination. A creation conjured up by a tired and beaten mind.  
The raid was still going on, but even then Vikings took a brief moment to stare at the scene before them. Gobber, too, looked out of his shop for a short few seconds to stare at his frightened apprentice until his attention was once again nabbed by his unarmed fellow Vikings.  
He got back to work with a shake of his head.  
When he had seen him come running to their place of work with determination, the limping man had actually believed the teen could get through one raid without shutting down out of nowhere again.  
Hiccup could not meet their gaze. Couldn't look his father, Snotlout, or even Astrid in the eye anymore.  
He froze in the middle of a dragon raid. Endangered not just himself, but the people around him and those trying to save him. Astrid, his only friend. The people she could be saving instead of wasting her time on him when he should've stayed inside exactly like his dad had ordered him to.  
All he had wanted was to reach the forge in time and he had screwed that up. He left the house and disobeyed his father and chief to prove he still had some worth as a Viking and failed at doing even that.  
Just like he screwed up every single other time.  
The former heir of Berk, seeking redemption, had only once again shown how much of a broken coward he turned out to be. Not even worthy to be called a Viking.  
Whatever Stoick might have been saying to his trembling son was falling on deaf ears. The young man found himself unable to focus on anything. Except for his miserable failure, horrid memories, and the shame of failing his village and his chief, he could think of nothing else.  
The broad man sighed, knowing there were more important things to worry about than snapping his son out of whatever shock he found himself stuck in.  
"Hiccup, get back to the house. There is still a raid going on. Astrid, make sure he stays there." Stoick knew it was useless to lecture the boy now, especially with how shaken up he appeared to be, and so requested this of the young warrior and she obliged without complaint.  
The blonde placed a hand on Hiccup's upper back as she wordlessly guided him back to his house up the hill once the chief had relinquished his hold on him and the brunette, numbed by shock, followed. She picked up the sword in her other hand on the way, which he couldn't even remember dropping, with her axe already strapped securely to her back.  
Together they quietly slinked away from judging eyes full of both pity and exasperation and left the chaos behind them.  
"Hiccup-" Upon reaching the chief's house did the eighteen year old stomp his way in and slam the front door shut behind him before Astrid could mutter another word.  
Only somewhat stunned by his behaviour, the blonde warrior heaved a sigh and briefly stared at the closed front door.  
She could understand why he was upset and had an aching need for solitude. She had seen him freeze in the middle of a raid, staring up to the darkened sky in obvious fear at nothing, and had known his trauma from his attack was playing with his head again, like it had done before during similar stressful moments.  
That was why Astrid Hofferson didn't feel angry when someone slammed the door shut in her face and instead gave Hiccup exactly what he needed. A moment of peace and quiet.  
The sword was still clutched in her hand and she placed it against the front of the chief's house, stationing herself with her axe once more in a sturdy grip before the steps and doing exactly what Stoick had asked of her. Keep her compromised friend inside and the house safe from any dragon attack.  
Like this the rest of the night, and the raid, slowly passed by for her.


	5. Damaged

Inside of the safety of his own home, Hiccup Haddock wasn't doing much better.  
As he paced across the living space he shared with his father, the raid still going on outside momentarily forgotten and pushed to the back of his mind, shock made way for frustration and angry tears welled up in the corners of his eyes while his young and heavy heart tore itself apart all over again.  
How?  
Just how?!  
The forge was only minutes away on foot if he ran. How could he mess even that up?! How could something as simple as that blow up right in his face? Like everything always does!  
Can't he simply last one raid without having another mental meltdown?  
No, it wasn't just his fault this time. It was also the Night Fury's. It was to blame for his inability to keep his cool during a raid now. Even back when he was still his toothpick of a fifteen year old self could he handle these weekly attacks better then this broken shell could these past three years.  
Maybe his Viking title as an adult would become Hiccup the Traumatised, much like Mildew the Unbearable as some people liked to call the old man. Or maybe just simply Hiccup the Village-Idiot-Who-Thought-Dragons-Would-Make-Good-Buddies! Surely those would be titles befitting the son of a chief! Weither he was heir or not!  
If only that damned beast had never existed. He just might've found his true place in the tribe already. He might've made his father proud.  
Another humiliating failure... It was quickly becoming too much for him to bear.  
And yet, he found that couldn't give up. He just couldn't. Too much relied on his eventual success. His entire future depended on it. Maybe even the future of Berk if his father and the council truly decided to settle with Snotlout as the next official heir.  
Snotlout. Honestly, what did he have to offer besides pure brawn and little brain?  
With an agitated sigh did Hiccup drop down on the stairs and hung his head low, face hidden in his hands.  
How much lower could he fall? He already lost his position and any respect he might've possibly had as a young boy, even if it was just there because of his birthright. What else was there to lose if he didn't get it all back in time?  
He needed to redeem himself. Time was running out and he wasn't even entirely sure why.  
And yet he could still feel himself trembling terribly from simply imagining the monster of a dragon to be there, his heart only just calming down and his breathing finally evening out. His legs had been ready to buckle underneath him even as he paced.  
He was scared. Hiccup Haddock the Third, the former heir of Berk, was scared.  
No, he was terrified! That was his problem!  
Hiccup looked up as he realized this, wiping a few frustrated stray tears away with his sleeve as they had escaped.  
Somehow, someway, he needed to lose his fear of dragons, of that Night Fury. That was his only way of beating this... this... He wasn't even sure what to call it, but this was the only way of solving it, the only solution.  
But how?  
That was something he had yet to figure out.  
At least one fact was crystal clear to him.  
He had to face his deepest fears.

The arduous raid finally came to a slow end and Berkians all over the village cheered at their departure, shouting and jeering one last time at their retreating forms.  
Despites a little hiccup here and there, the cattle casualties had been minimum and not too many families had lost their homes. Neither were there too many injured Vikings and no lives were lost that night either.  
It had been a good raid, the best one they've had in weeks.  
Though many silently agreed that had everything to do with the Night Fury's conspicuous absence.  
No one spoke a word about it out loud, not even Snotlout or the twins and especially not in front of the mighty and influential Chief Stoick the Vast, but many were glad the incident had happened three years ago.  
In their most darkest thoughts, they were happy.  
No one would ever wish harm on one of their own and certainly not on a Hooligan who could barely defend himself and genuinely always tried his best on the weapons and shields he crafted with his own two hands, but Hiccup befriending and being betrayed by said 'friend' was apparently the key to ridding themselves of the rare dragon that cost them so much more than any other had before its arrival years ago.  
Their homes, their valuables, their lives, and their loved ones. A lot was spared with its leave. The Vikings of Berk didn't lose as much anymore and for that they were grateful.  
It was why, without Hiccup knowing so, they had taken the public announcement of his replacement so well, why they greeted him with a smile now at the forge, though one filled with pity, and why his continuing failures didn't bother them as much as they used to anymore. He was no longer a bad omen whenever he as much as set a foot outside of his own home now.  
The boy was traumatised as a price for making the Night Fury leave and it was one they had willingly paid. Hiccup had paid.  
That was why nobody minded his inability to fight as much as they used to and this agitated the young man even more. Hiccup could feel it whenever they walked him by, whenever someone whispered behind his back, whenever someone stared at his ruined eye for far too long.  
They wanted to be careful with their local damaged goods.  
He could already hear the whispers once he needed to return to the forge. If Stoick would even let him after such a display last night.  
 _"Poor boy shut down in another raid again."_  
 _"He will never be a proper Viking now."_  
 _"No maiden will want him, no children to carry on the Haddock family."_  
 _"It's such a shame Valka was taken before they could have a second child."_  
They weren't whispers he hadn't heard before.  
But the dragon attack had ended and that meant his father would be coming home soon to check up on his son and see if he hadn't been driven mad by his own incompetence yet.  
First the man had to tend to his village and the aftermath those scaled monsters had left behind. He needed to make sure his people were safe, the remaining cattle was accounted for, and give people who may have lost their homes or who's houses are now in poor condition a new place to stay until their abodes could be repaired.  
Sometimes dealing with the aftermath could be just as tiresome as the actual raid itself.  
At least now that didn't include covering up another path of destruction left by his own son.  
A deep and tired sigh left Stoick the Vast when midday arrived and it seemed like most of the more urgent problems had now been taken care off.  
Damage had been noted and would be fixed, lost sheep and yaks were found and returned to their pens, fishermen were send out to fish and replenish what their storages now missed. The chief could now take a bit of time out of his increasingly busier schedule to check on the one person that's been constantly on his mind ever since his breakdown early last night.  
It was with a steady pace and a stride that Stoick returned to his home on top of the hill, passing Berkians with barely hidden pity as they knew where he was headed and why, but successfully did he hide the conflict waging war inside of him.  
A big part of him wanted to yell at his son and scold him for once again disobeying a direct order from his father and chief and putting himself aswell as others in danger. Another part of him wanted to go easy on him, believing the shock to have been more than enough of a punishment.  
Going soft on someone, even if they were your own children, wasn't the Viking way, but Stoick couldn't help it.  
After all, this wasn't the same as a young boy trying to prove his worth to his father with the potential cost of innocent lives. This was a young man trying in vain to prove that he wasn't broken to a village that already viewed him as a lost cause.  
Stoick knew this. A Viking's reputation was as important to them as breathing, especially to a hiccup. So of course his son would do everything in his power to restore his, what little there might have been.  
Still the man wished his son would stop trying so hard already. He couldn't bear to come so close to losing him all over again. If only Hiccup understood this.  
First the dragon that took Valka, then the boy's several failed attempts with his own inventions, after that the Night Fury, and now Hiccup's trials and errors as he seeks to redeem himself. When would he finally give up?  
Yes, pigheadedness came with being a Viking and that was at least something Stoick should be proud of, but instead it showed a testament of who the elusive Night Fury had ruined and the more he failed, all the more clearer this became.  
Standing in front of his home, the broad man released another tired sigh before he faced the tired blonde, who still held her axe in hand.  
"It's been quiet inside. I haven't heard anything of Hiccup. And I think you will be glad to know that no dragon has even tried to come here, Chief." Astrid told him, knowing that this worried dad would've liked to know.  
"Thank you, lass. Now go and check on your family. I know your parents have been itching to see you safe and sound." The Viking Chief told her, grateful that she agreed to look after Hiccup for him.  
"Anytime, Chief." Was what the girl answered and after one last hesitating glance towards the Haddock house, left to go see if her folks were okay.  
After Stoick send her on her way, he entered inside to face his son.  
Hiccup was still sitting on the bottom of the stairs, knees pulled up to his chest with his arms around them and his head dipped with his face hidden. Like this his son looked like that small forlorn boy all over again, though Stoick had a hard time seeing him as anything but that boy even now that he was supposed to be a man in the eyes of their village.  
He couldn't grow too soft. Stoick had to remember that.  
It was silent in the Haddock Household. Hiccup didn't seem to even notice his father's presence and the Viking chief didn't quite know what to say either.  
Even before all of this, Stoick had a rather hard time speaking with his only child. Any conversation had between the two of them had been awkward and short with only a few words spoken at most, if it didn't turn into a loud discussion first.  
Hiccup was simply too... different, even back then. Not at all like a Viking should be. Now he was as clueless as ever on what to tell him.  
He didn't need to say anything.  
"Dad, you're back." Hiccup stated as he lifted his head to finally notice that his father had returned.  
Rubbing in his eyes and soon stretching his arms and back as they were stiff from this position, it was clear the brunette had only just woken up from what was possibly a very uncomfortable nap.  
After skipping a night's sleep due to the raid and then the breakdown, no one could blame the apprentice blacksmith for having some shut eye. He wouldn't be the only one having some now that the dragons were gone.  
"Hiccup..." Stoick spoke his boy's name in a tone that was all too familiar to him as he clasped his hands together.  
He wanted to talk and Hiccup had a feeling it had something to do with what happened during the raid. Their talks always had something to do with what happens during the raids.  
This time, however, Hiccup needed to discuss an important little thing with him too.  
The brunette swallowed his nervousness down and faced the much larger man as he struggled to get up on his feet.  
Yes, the biggest loss he suffered had been half of his sight and besides that he had healed remarkably well, especially considering in how bad of a state he was brought to Gothi. The old healer, despites her vast knowledge on both the medical and the mystical, had once feared he had lost too much blood to survive.  
But bones had still been broken and that helped the everyday chill take a toll on him. A fire hadn't been burning in the center of the living space to give him warmth either. Winters, like the one approaching now, were therefore particularly harsh on him.  
Old scars still hurt.  
Stoick had to keep himself from helping his stiff son up and showing what the boy would undoubtedly see as nothing less than pity.  
Showing pity of any kind was generally looked down upon by any Viking. Growing soft simply wasn't their way. They needed to be tough, needed to be stubborn, needed to be strong both inside and out.  
The man with the fiery red beard knew all too well that he had done nothing but break the most prominent unspoken rule of being a Viking in the Barbaric Archipelago.  
One simply could not be soft on even their own children. This was a harsh environment to live in with the dragon scourge raining fire and death on them all and the harsh, freezing cold climate. Everything they did, they did in the hopes of having their sons and daughters survive to see the next day.  
Only the strong could reach adulthood. Berkian parents, like any other Viking couples, were no strangers to the possibility of losing their children. If it wasn't to dragons or the climate, it was to enemy tribes.  
Frankly, it made some people wonder just how Hiccup had made it this far in life, even with his dad there to ensure his safety in every way possible.  
Stoick had let his son's trauma soften him. While other chiefs would have given up on their offspring, Chief Haddock didn't. In fact, he tried even harder than before to keep his only child safe. Heir material he might not be, but his son he still was and no harm would come to him ever again so long as he might still breathe.  
Hiccup released a soft sigh, steadying himself and rubbing his left forearm as he faced his father. He was apparently gathering his courage for something, but what it was he never managed to say.  
"We need to talk about the raid, Hiccup. This can't continue." Stoick started, speaking in a soft and comforting tone.  
Back when Hiccup was only fifteen years old and even younger, when he was known as the disaster of Berk, that tone was something he couldn't even imagine hearing his father speak in.  
Most of the time the man spoke with a scowl and a disappointing voice or he'd raise it to scold and lecture the boy about another backfired invention or scheme in front of the entire village.  
Then the Night Fury happened and all of that changed.  
Absentmindedly did Hiccup note how much more discomforting this cool, collected, and stoic father was compared to his old yelling one. At least back then Stoick still believed his son could take a blow or two and wasn't a complete delicate flower.  
In some strange way not being yelled at was even worse. The brunette was stopped in his tracks, whatever he wanted to say nearly forgotten as he looked up to his chief's comforting eyes. He felt like a little boy everytime the man gazed down on him like that.  
"Dad..."  
"I know you're trying to prove yourself to us." Gobber may or may not have helped him come to this realization when he complained to his friend about his son's continued disobedience and apparent want to endanger himself.  
"But you need to stop. You're an excellent blacksmith and Berk needs your skill, I've seen and handled your work myself and it's splendid, but not during a raid." Stoick the Vast was being so careful and so unlike himself, as if he believed one wrong word could break his son beyond repair.  
In the end, it was exactly that which hurt Hiccup even more.  
His father did love him. He could see that both Gobber and Astrid had been speaking the truth earlier. The man loved him so much it hurt. But that didn't change the fact that he was still being treated as a victim.  
Not as a person, not as someone with a peculiar view on the world, not as a being with feelings and thoughts of his own, not even as a destructive little disaster of a Viking anymore either, but as a mere victim of an unfortunate incident that happened three years ago.  
That was something else Hiccup realized since his meltdown.  
His father, his mentor, his best and only friend, his peers, and his people, every single one of them. They had all unwillingly begun to see him as nothing more than another victim made at the claws and teeth of the dragons. This was why they treated him the way they did.  
He was a victim. His identity didn't extend much beyond that and his breakdowns only backed them up.  
"Dad, Gobber needs my help. The village needs my help! Besides, this is the only way I can still be of use. Even the kids younger than me are risking their lives out there. It's not right for me to stay inside and cower." He argued, but like every single other conversation held between this particular father and son, the older one of the two didn't quite like to listen.  
"Son, I need you to start listening to me and stay inside." Despites his name, Stoick was known to have a temper, particularly with any argument that involved his son, but he was doing his best to suppress it. Had been doing it for a long while now.  
If Hiccup's disobedience had taunted his temper in any way last night, the Viking Chief was no longer showing it. That was very different from what he was used to when he was younger.  
"Dad-" Hiccup would've tried to speak up again, would've wanted to bring up what he believed to be the solution to clear his problem right up, but never got the chance to tell as Stoick cut him off in an unnervingly calm tone.  
"Hiccup, please. You're my flesh and blood, my son, my only child. You're all I have left of Valka. Don't make me lose you too." His mother was brought up, a subject rarely talked about in this household by the chief's own choice, and Hiccup grew quiet.  
The uncomfortable sensation of guilt settled in the pit of his stomach and gnawed on him more than hunger ever could. It made him swallow anything he might have wanted to tell him.  
"Next time the dragons come to raid, stay inside and do as you're told. Now go get some rest and then head to the forge. Gobber is probably expecting you." His father finished the one-sided conversation and gripped Hiccup's shoulder with a large hand that felt surprisingly light.  
It was if Stoick feared he might break a bone by simply touching him and that only served to worsen the tense atmosphere in the room aswell as remind Hiccup the way his father now view him.  
Hiccup did not speak up again, instead simply nodding and complying to the man's request, absentmindedly taking hold of a few locks of hair close to his faded right eye.  
In doing so, his father's grip on him faltered, as did the smile the brunette hadn't even noticed was there until just now. It had been one given to reward his compliance. It looked far from genuine.  
Both of them were people neither one of them recognized now.  
"Good. Good man. I'll... I have to look after the village and take care of a few more issues the dragons caused. I trust to see you at dinner this evening?" To bring an end to the awkward silence taking up all of the available oxygen in the house, Stoick spoke once more and placed his hands on his side, hoping to keep up this positive mask as old as his son's perpetual frown.  
Hiccup nodded, unable to speak and unable to look the other in the eye anymore. That didn't make this temporary goodbye any less awkward.  
"Good." Stoick turned away from him to face the front door and inaudibly released a lung full of air he hadn't realized he was holding in.  
He felt relieved to not look at Hiccup anymore and the aching in his heart ceased the moment his eyes were no longer urged to seek for any sign of life in the dulled and scarred green.  
He loved his son, of course. He loved that boy with all his heart and soul and nothing could change that, but it was loving him that made seeing the scars in his freckled complexion even worse.  
"I'll speak to you later, son. Rest up and meet with Gobber." The chief repeated as if to remind him before leaving their home and granting Hiccup some peace.  
The young man breathed a deep sigh, as if finally able to breathe for the first time in a long while, and he fell back down on the bottom of the stairs again.  
That could've gone better. Should have gone better.  
Hiccup had wanted to tell his dad the solution to his problems. Instead everything currently wrong with him had been rubbed into his face and all by a well-meaning parent who wanted to do him nothing but good.  
He was damaged. He hated to know, but it was true.  
Whatever determination he might have felt, it had dwindled and died now.


	6. Those Few Precious Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I'm so glad that I finally got this finished!  
> I've realized that the Hiccup in my story should probably be quite a bit more awkward than he actuall is in 'Race to the Edge', which is the Hiccup I'm basing this fic on. Unlike movie!Hiccup, he hasn't been down the same road that turned him into a capable and confident leader. The potential is surely still in there, much like it had been in Hiccup in the first movie, but unlike the movies, this Hiccup hasn't had the chance to build such a confidence in himself yet. So I should probably try to write him a bit more awkward as I continue with this story.  
> Also someone has brought it to my attention that I use hair colours as descriptive traits a little too often. So I will try to bring it down a notch. :)

The days following that which Hiccup still called a disastrous raid, life on Berk continued on as lively and loudly as ever. With losses kept to a bare minimum, the Hairy Hooligans saw no reason not to carry on as jovial as ever, thanking the Gods for such a prosperous time. It was the best they had ever known.  
Winter was only a weeks away now, but if they could fight off the dragons like this every raid, there might be no need to ration what food they might end up having when the snow inevitably arrives.  
It will come eventually and when that day comes it could bury them for sometimes even days afterwards. That the infernal beasts didn't come during a large portion of that season did surely help.  
The Berkians were given cause to drink and laughed hours into the night in the Great Hall, neighbours and friends greeted and conversed as loudly as their voices could carry, work was accomplished faster and with even more vigor than before. Not even the Thorston twins' infamous shenanigans could ruin their especially good mood.  
Just seeing such joyful people would be enough to make anyone a happy individual.  
There was still that one person in their village who found himself unable to enjoy the lighthearted atmosphere as much as everyone else was, but even he could enjoy a blissful moment or two.  
Hiccup Haddock once again worked in his mentor's forge, like he always did with little complaint. He created what was commissioned and paid for or repaired whatever would find itself in his care. Today that was Astrid Hofferson's beloved axe.  
What once belonged to her mother had been given to her long ago when the girl first entered Dragon Training. It wasn't anything too fancy, but it was strong, it had felled many trees whenever Astrid trained in the forest on the outskirts of town, and it was durable. It was also her most prized possession.  
She walked with that thing wherever she went. Even when there were no dragons to slay and she was simply on a casual visit with a friend was she still seen with her trusty axe at her side. She loved it and would not trade it for anything in the world. Wherever she may go, her axe would be there too.  
Hiccup understood this and it was part of the reason why he handled this particular weapon with such care. The main one was simply because it belonged to her, to Astrid, his best friend and longtime crush.  
That was something nothing and no one could change, not even that damned Night Fury. His feelings, for the young warrior who had given him her friendship when no one else would, would forever stay the same.  
"Thank you so much, Hiccup. You're a lifesaver." Astrid was still here, watching him ready the dulled blade of her axe to be sharpened on a whetstone as she spoke with such gratitude. If there was anyone she could entrust with her most valuable possession, it was him.  
"Ah, don't mention it. Obviously I'm always glad to do a friend a favour." The smile Hiccup gave her was clearly a forced one and it looked strange on his pale features, but she knew that it didn't make his words any less genuine. If anything, he was trying to put up a pleasant front rather than show her the grim expressions she's still not used to seeing on his face.  
These were the moments with Hiccup she cherished the most.  
No obsessions driven by vengeance and pride, no shallow and conflicted bullies, no dark thoughts. Just her, Hiccup, and a blessed kind of peace in the air.  
These were the moments she lived for.  
The sound of metal grinding on stone reached her ears, quite a noisy sound, and brought her back to the present. Hiccup was sharpening her weapon with practised ease and experience with his work told her she could expect it back just as good as before, if not better.  
Losing an eye had made work at the forge a little more difficult for some time with the loss in depth perception, but he had managed to work splendidly despites the many restless nights spend stubbornly trying to improve his skills to become as good as they once were. Now the Hofferson family axe was once again in capable hands.  
While he worked, Astrid entered the forge and, mindful of the blacksmith at work, took a look around. Unlike most patrons who left as soon as business was concluded, she often liked to stay for a chat.  
"I haven't seen Gobber yet in the forge today. What's he up to?" Astrid had to shout in order to be heard.  
"I have no idea. He told me yesterday I should open up the forge because he had something or other to do before he could come in for work." Without even bothering to stop the grinding did Hiccup reply back to her, shrugging at her question.  
"You think it may have something to do with the meeting the chief called for this morning?" Astrid asked and leant against a counter, her slender hands gripping onto the wood behind her as she brought up this curious topic. Behind her hung a variety of still unused shields, including some of his own unfinished products.  
He gave her an affirming grumble that either sounded like 'uh-hu' or a slightly more dismissive 'yeah, probably'. She couldn't quite tell.  
"Is it about another expedition for the Nest? Did your dad mention anything like that?" As if something she said suddenly annoyed him did the grinding briefly stop and Hiccup seemed to visibly contemplate weither to respond or not before shaking his head to himself and continuing with his work.  
Whatever he had to say during that one moment of thought, it was apparently not worth saying.  
His back was turned to her and still she could read him like a book.  
"Hiccup." She pried. It wasn't the best idea, but Astrid Hofferson wasn't one to back down. So she could only hope prying wouldn't bring an end to this blissful morning so abruptly.  
At least Hiccup seemed to be in a talkative mood today.  
"You mean a father and son are supposed to talk to eachother? Why Astrid, where did you ever get that idea?" And with that sarcastic remark was the pleasant moment over.  
"That's a painful kind of sarcasm." She commented with her arms crossed and not hiding the glare she send his way.  
Hiccup felt a sudden cold chill, though he wasn't quite sure what for.  
The sharpening of the axe took another short pause as a pair of mismatched eyes took the liberty to look at the girl from over his shoulder and confirm that Astrid was indeed glaring at him.  
It left a bad taste in his mouth. One he couldn't quite swallow. So he sighed and gave her a different response instead.  
"No, my dad hasn't mentioned anything like that to me. But Winter is coming and that means he usually tries one last time to find the Dragon's Nest. So yeah, the meeting is probably about that." He settled for that, speaking quite monotonous.  
"Now can we please talk about something else? I'd rather not think about the upcoming expedition." Hiccup asked, unintentionally letting something slip he had never intended to express.  
Astrid, of course, caught on quickly.  
"And what's so special about it?"  
Hiccup looked up from his work, taking the axe head from the whetstone to test its sharpness.  
"Huh?" He gave her a questioning glance. His right eye might not work anymore, but at least his eyebrow still did. It helped create an expression that was still so typically him.  
"Your dad's been on other journeys to the Nest, but you're bothered by this one in particular. Why's that?" The young woman asked, though she had a feeling Hiccup won't immediately answer her with the truth.  
"Aren't we all when our parents are off fighting dragons and their kids are left behind to fend for themselves with no way of knowing if said parents will ever return?" Just as expected, Hiccup would rather lie than reveal what he truly thought.  
And he was so bad at it too. He could barely put any honesty behind his words.  
"Hiccup... What is really bothering you? Tell me." Astrid felt no shame in putting some force in her demand.  
With another sigh did the apprentice turn towards her, handing the newly sharpened axe back to its owner.  
"Astrid... I know it's frowned on to talk about feelings and fears and such in a Viking community, but I'm so sick and tired of letting this... this..." Fists clenching, Hiccup struggled to find the right words to use.  
"... Trauma?" Astrid filled in carefully, her eyes full of compassion.  
The little girl who fought and trained relentlessly to be a shieldmaiden for so long and who tried to abandon anything she felt was trivial compared to her ultimate goal in life was still in there and kicking, but she had also learned by now that feelings was something no one could repress for long.  
Vikings, though they did not like to admit it out loud, still had hearts. And some were more fragile than others.  
So while the want to protect her village and fellow tribesmen was still her main drive, emotions were no longer a burden to her.  
At least in front of Hiccup, arguably the most sensitive Viking in the Barbaric Archipelago, she dared to show what she really felt.  
That was something you could do in front of a good friend, right?  
Hiccup's shoulders dropped as she nailed it right on the head. He may dislike that word, but it was what he suffered from.  
Doesn't mean he will speak of it, of course.  
"The point is, a couple of days ago I figured out that there is only one way to rid myself of my fear of dragons." He continued and braced himself for what he was about to say.  
"And that is?" Astrid decided to ask, even though she had a feeling she wouldn't like what rolled off his tongue next.  
"W-well..." Stuttering. This definitely wasn't a good sign.  
"Hiccup." Like a strict mother she demanded to be told what was on his mind.  
"I need to face a dragon. Ah-a real dragon. I can only get rid of this fear by facing it head-on, the good old fashioned way." He spoke quickly, stumbling over a word or two as the stuttering he tried so hard to banish returned.  
The warrior before him stared at him. Her eyes wide, mouth agape slightly, and the grip on her axe faltering.  
Instantly she grew furious.  
"You?! Facing a dragon alone, are you serious?!" Her voice raised an octave or two as she started shouting. Weither or not anyone heard them was none of her immediate concern.  
"I know it's-it's a bit crazy, but-"  
"'A bit crazy'? Hiccup, you can barely step outside of your house during a raid without collapsing!"  
"Now hold-hold on. 'Collapsing' isn't exactly what-"  
"You freeze up, turn yourself into an easy meal, can't fight back even when a Monstrous Nightmare comes diving down for you in a blaze. And you want to go out there and face them without help?! Are you insane!" That last declaration was stated more than it was asked.  
Hiccup decided not to respond, having been cornered against the grindstone when a steaming Astrid had strided towards him in an intimidating way with her gleaming axe still in hand during her tirade.  
"Uh..." He hesitated. Hiccup wasn't sure if he should keep staring into those beautiful eyes filled with blue fire or the deadly weapon she held ready, which was as natural to her as breathing by now.  
It was probably against his better judgement, but he decided to speak up again now that Astrid was silently fuming instead.  
Placing slender, but well-worked, hands on her shoulder, Hiccup got her to take a step back and out of his personal space. The young woman seemed to relax just a tad under his touch.  
"I never said I would be alone, Astrid. I-I have been touchy about the next expedition because I want to join my father and the others." Even now she still wore that look as if he were suddenly speaking in foreign tongues or grew a second head out of nowhere.  
"I'd have dad right there to help me. And isn't making sure that I'm safe what you both want? I'll be surrounded by Vikings there to begrudgingly keep me from harm. Totally safe!" He needed this to work. Needed to have someone look at him and tell him that maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.  
Otherwise...  
Hiccup can't imagine for how much longer he can let these merciless creatures keep him hostage before he'll break for good.  
Astrid was quiet and for a long, agonisingly silent moment it was almost as if she considered it.  
The truth was, it was hard for her to ignore such desperate longing in those lonely, lost eyes.  
Her own blue ones gazed downwards when she felt his hands move down her arms to take hers instead, though her axe was still in a tight grip.  
His were warm. Calloused from years of hard work, but so warm all the same.  
Averting her eyes from the young man, Astrid quietly took her hands back and turned away from him.  
The message was clear.  
No.  
"Astrid, please." Hiccup had always been a sensitive person, the complete opposite of his father, but the sheer emotion in those two words were enough to make her heart throb.  
Yet, her mind held no doubts.  
"I... I need this, Astrid. Maybe if I can have just one person to tell me that I'm not absolutely insane to think of such a plan... You know, someone to support this and help me convince my dad?" She stayed silent even despites his honest confession of what he truly wanted.  
"Please... Let me have this. I need to redeem myself. I need control over my life back. Don't let them take everything from me for good." Even Hiccup wasn't one to beg, that was something a Viking just wasn't supposed to do, but he lowered himself to this last-ditch effort to convince her to help him.  
His father, Stoick the Vast, believed in her and her skills. He valued her oppinion as a capable warrior of Berk, though young as she was. He would be inclined to listen to her.  
Without her by his side, he wouldn't have a single chance in Hel to persuade the Chief.  
Astrid stayed silent and unmoving as the very stone statues guarding Berk out in the open sea from enemy ships.  
Hiccup relented and gave up. Resigning himself to the fact that not even she would stand by him on this.  
If she wouldn't help him, than who on Berk would still willingly do so?  
The silence inside forge dragged on and grew intenser with every passing second. Neither boy nor girl knew what to say. Discomfort reigned supreme.  
Growing increasingly more uncomfortable, Astrid sought for something to break this quiet tension in the air and she felt herself be taken to the back, leaving the tall defeated form of the former heir behind for just a moment. Its secrets had been revealed to her long ago even before she made her offer of friendship to a barely recovered boy.  
Even in the dark her keen sight fell on the several blueprints still hanging on the walls and lying on the desk inside of Hiccup's private little room. Her slender fingers traced the paper and over the charcoal lines drawn with care and precision such a long time ago.  
It was almost taboo for Hiccup's 'phase' to be talked about in Berk. All those barely tested 'projects' he used to conjure up in that odd mind of his always seemed to bring more destruction to them that it did to the dragons they were supposedly to be used against. Some may have even once accused the boy for siding with the enemy because of these devices.  
A mutually shared breath of relief had left them all when they came to the careful realisation that Hiccup was no longer inventing. That was something the Night Fury 'fixed' too.  
No longer would their houses, their docks, their defenses, their cattles, or their fellows suffer from his insane contraptions.  
And yet, a part of Astrid had often thought it was a pity he had stopped.  
She had seen the destruction caused by his clumsy hands too, but she had also seen what he had truly intended to do with his creations.  
As a young girl she may have never stopped the public ridicule that followed each failure, but she never condemned his actions and ideas either.  
They weren't all that bad. Not everything that left the boy's mind was meant for destruction and it always seemed to her like those were the ideas he should've shown his father.  
Not the ones that made him look like a man born to kill dragons, but the ones that showed he was an inventor, someone who looked towards a better future for Berk.  
_"It was just a long and exhausting phase."_ People had said and thus it was no longer talked about.  
But looking at those plans now and wondering what this older, smarter, more experienced Hiccup could do with them, Astrid couldn't help but let her mind wander.  
A glance at his slightly hunched form still standing at the whetstone gave her all the courage she needed. Her peers and elders would look down on her for ever trying to put her faith in something so dangerous, would ask her why she just couldn't let sleeping dragons lie, but growing older has taught her that sometimes the oppinions of others shouldn't matter.  
Isn't that what becoming an adult is all about? Making your own decisions despites what people might say about them?  
Astrid supposed so.  
"Hiccup, why don't you start inventing again?" She called out as she left the backroom, his disorderly stacks of paper whisked from the desk and now in her possession. And, well, that certainly drew his attention again.  
"Inventing?" He asked, perhaps in a more mocking tone than he had previously intended.  
"Yes, inventing. You were pretty good at coming up with all sorts of strange ideas. Why not take another look at them?" Astrid asked as she skimmed through the papers she had taken without permission.  
"Yeah, sure I was. That's why everyone was suddenly so much more relaxed to see me set a single foot outside when I finally stopped." The amount of sarcasm in the apprentice blacksmith's voice was indescribable as he searched for what was next on the list of repairs.  
Gods, another tool for Mildew as listed. What does that man do with his tools to break them so quickly?  
Seems like the blueprints she took will come in handy after all.  
Astrid searched for one that might try and spark his interest a little.  
"How about this unfinished fire prevention system? That could come in hand with the raids." Hiccup listened for just a moment before shaking his head again and muttering something inaudible as he threw a bend sword on the newly heated coals.  
Astrid wasn't entirely certain she wanted to hear what he was saying when he talked to himself.  
But she continued.  
"You know, it doesn't look all too bad. If we could just find out where and how we could get the water..." A quiet Hiccup simply grabbed the hot sword once the metal was malleable enough and brought it over to the anvil to be straightened with not a single word of response to her.  
The young woman did not let his unresponsiveness bring her down and simply searched for her next attempt amongst the pages.  
She skimmed and skipped until finally she settled on this design of a shield hidden within the stack. Lingering on it for a little while, the design of the darkest dragon she had ever seen made her ignore this particular project in the end.  
The sound of a hammer hitting metal reached her ears and briefly did she glance back at the blacksmith at work.  
Hiccup was hitting that poor sword with such force that Astrid worried it might break.  
It looked like he was venting his frustrations.  
Did he do this very often?  
Astrid soon came to realize the sound of his old papers being searched through seemed to rub him the wrong way.  
"You know what? I saw Snotlout listening in on our conversation just now. Can't you bother him instead?" Hiccup stopped his work just to tell her that and he wasn't lying, he had seen an awfully familiar broad shape ducking away just then, but it was still harsh, especially coming from him.  
He seemed to realize that too very quickly after his demand for peace and a break from her had rendered the shieldmaiden behind him speechless.  
The hammer fell from his grasp to the floor with a muffled thud as he quickly spun around on his feet to face a startled Astrid.  
"Oh Gods, Oh Thor! I'm... so sorry, Astrid. I never... I don't want you too... I would never..." He seemed eerily similar to the young boy she once knew as he tried to find the right words to say.  
His expression of regret said enough. 'Me and my big stupid mouth!' it seemed to say.  
With Hiccup you could trust him to wear his heart right on his sleeve. It made it easy for anyone who knew him at least a little to tell if his apologies were genuine or not. It was why Astrid could shrug his minor outburst away.  
"Anyway..." She started to get her topic of choice back on track, though speaking in a considerably colder tone now.  
Or she would've continued and Hiccup would've reluctantly resumed the repairs of the sword after his botched apology went unanswered, but then a deep blue gaze caught itself staring at unnervingly familiar sketches she had seen only once or twice prior to today.  
The Night Fury.  
No matter where and no matter when, it was still there. It followed him like a shadow, taunted him without end, and kept him hostage.  
Astrid felt an anger well up while she stared at the drawing as if it was the real deal standing before her.  
This was it. The creature without mercy or conscience that ruined the life of someone young well beyond repair.  
What was but a mere picture of a monster stirred so many unwanted emotions within her.  
As a Viking she felt offended. As a warrior she wanted to tear it apart. As his friend she wanted to protect him from that which had wronged him so terribly.  
Astrid became aware that Hiccup was watching her, occasionally glancing down at the bundle of pages in her hand. It was like he could see right through them and knew exactly what she was looking at.  
She decided to be as blunt as ever.  
"You still have these." It was a statement, not a question as the sketch was held up for him to see. She wasn't looking for an excuse because there should be none.  
At least none that would satisfy her.  
"Uh, yeah..." Now he was the one avoiding her gaze and moving his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably, unable to stand still. It was like he got caught doing something wrong.  
"You want me to get rid of them?" The girl asked, eyeing the coals still burning off to one side from the corners of her eyes.  
"No, it's fine. I'll burn them myself." Hiccup spoke dismissively as he tried to get back to work. Or just turn away from her and stare empty-handed at the cooling sword on the anvil in front of him.  
Not that he hasn't tried to throw those away before, of course.  
Astrid sighed and with a quick few steps placed the stack on the desk where she had found them in the first place. Her back now turned to him aswell.  
"I only want you to be safe. You know that, right?" It was almost as if that question came out of nowhere.  
Hiccup was startled and unprepared to answer. He could only stare at her back as he attempted to come up with an answer.  
Instead it stayed quiet.  
"Alright, 'Iccup! I'm 'ere! What does Mildew want repaired today? Oh 'ey, Astrid! Come to visit yer good friend, 'Iccup?" The loud and heavily accented voice of Gobber accompanied the Viking hobbling into the forge on one real and one fake leg. His cheery smile once again present on his features as he attempted to tease his apprentice.  
Honestly, was there anything strong enough to wipe it off?  
Hiccup, at the very least, hoped not. It would be wrong to see Gobber without his usual jovial self.  
But as was one of the blacksmith's least lauded traits, he was observant and caught on to the tension between the two teens.  
"Did I walk in on somethin'?" The burly Viking asked with an eyebrow raised, leaving no room for these two former dragon training students of his to undermine the authority he still held over them.  
"No, not really. We were actually finished talking." It wasn't a lie. Astrid doubted she could spring another confrontational conversation with Hiccup today again.  
Gobber seemed to let it go as he shrugged and didn't speak up again while he moved to the long list of work for that day, but it was obvious that he might pester either one of the two for it later.  
But before then, Astrid decided to leave the forge.  
"I should probably go. My mom asked me this morning if I could help her with the household for today. Will I see you later at dinner in the Great Hall, Hiccup? You'll probably have to sit with Snotlout and the twins, but they won't be a problem." Spinning on her heel to ask this one last question, Astrid gave him a small smile that told him there were no hard feelings after another unpleasant conversation.  
Hiccup's good mood seemed to be making a comeback.  
"Nah, not today. As hilarious as it is to watch the twins try to get between Snotlout and a bowl of mutton after you tried it once, dad expects me home for dinner. He might get worried when I don't show up." He answered and for once his father's overprotective behaviour did not spark a sense of bitterness within him.  
His smile, though perhaps the most out of relief that he didn't lose this precious friendship he had with his crush, grew a little bit more honest.  
"Okay, fine. I'll see you tomorrow!" Astrid told her final goodbyes as she left the two blacksmiths.  
Hiccup watched her go until the blond vanished from sight, feeling slightly saddened that he couldn't be better company for her.  
And then there was Gobber.  
"So... What were the two of you really talkin' 'bout?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fifteen year old Hiccup does seem to have a little bit of a temper. So I don't believe a minor outburst here and there would be too far-fetched.  
> And yes, Toothless will come in due time.


	7. Cousins

Snotlout Jorgenson's day had started out swell enough, just like every other day in his glorious life.  
He woke up from his long beauty sleep late in the morning as handsome as always, as expected of him. Proceeded to give his truly bulging muscles their daily good morning kisses for good luck as any healthy young man with a sane mind should do. Then dressed up accordingly for someone of his stature and left his household for a breakfast fit for a strong Viking like him to start the day off right.  
Naturally, ladies both young and old swooned left and right at his mere appearance. His ego was at an all-time high.  
He had plans to meet up with the twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, later after a good meal. Though for what exactly he wasn't so sure off. Not yet at least. They rarely really thought these things through. In fact, they probably never did.  
But Snotlout had every intention on gorging himself in food like any Viking man would and should when he happened to be passing by the forge that morning and noticed that one certain Hooligan was already hard at work without a Gobber to be seen and only a Hofferson to keep him company.  
And something did not seem right.  
Simply put, he was curious to know what their conversation was going on about if it made Hiccup so easily annoyed with Astrid, of all people.  
So he crept closer, his somewhat smaller stature giving him a benefit he would never openly admit to, and pressed himself against the wall beneath the large open window where blacksmith and customer would do business. He tried to focus his hearing on what was being said inside of the forge.  
"That's a painful kind of sarcasm."  
Snotlout didn't know what exactly Astrid was responding too, but even he could hear the chill and the venom in her voice.  
It grew quiet for a little while as Hiccup surely heard this too.  
"No, my dad hasn't mentioned anything like that to me." Mentioned what? Get to the point already!  
For Snotlout this talk was going a little too slow for his liking.  
They were talking about a meeting of sorts taking place at the current moment, which he didn't find especially topic worthy and so he found his interest in their talk waning. The chief held those so often just the very mention of such a gathering sounded dull to him.  
"And what's so special about it?"  
"Huh?"  
"You're dad's been on other journeys to the Nest, but you're bothered by this one in particular. Why's that?"  
Now that Astrid had made her point, Snotlout found his interest to be piqued again and he tried even harder to listen.  
Why would Hiccup be so bothered by something that happens so often pretty much every year ever since Stoick became chief? Those born after his rise to chiefdom knew nothing else and the ones who grew up to be warriors were expected to one day join, even them.  
So why would something so normal bother anyone?  
_"Yeah, Hiccup! What's so special about it?!"_ He had almost shouted, but he managed to quiet his tongue before those words escaped him. It was quite a feat for a Jorgenson, who were usually known to speak whatever was on their minds. Both the good and the bad.  
"Hiccup... What is really bothering you? Tell me." Astrid spoke after hearing him give her an obvious dishonest answer and she said it with that kind of tone that sounded to everyone like 'and give me a straight answer this time or I'm getting my axe'.  
To everyone except for Hiccup.  
The work on the Hofferson family axe had stopped by now, which made eavesdropping on the two a lot easier for one short Viking.  
"Astrid... I know it's frowned on to talk about feelings and fears and such in a Viking community, but I'm so sick and tired of letting this... this..."  
"... Trauma?"  
It was just the usual 'Hiccup is sensitive and very much in touch with his feminine side' type of talk that Vikings tended to laugh at and ignore, Snot and the twins included. At the very least when such talks were held out in the open like this.  
The youngest Jorgenson knew this and yet, for some reason he can't quite explain, he finds any protests at their chosen topic of conversation quieten within himself and he leaned in closer with a frown to listen.  
People were giving him odd looks as they passed by, but he honestly could not care less.  
He needed to know what was being said.  
And that is when the former heir of Berk started talking about his master plan, which missed the very detailed planning that would make this a 'master plan'.  
"I need to face a dragon. Ah-a real dragon. I can only get rid of this fear by facing it head-on, the good old fashioned way."  
Was that Hiccup's amazing plan?  
Do the same thing he's been trying and failing to do during the raids over and over again for the past year or two?!  
Snotlout couldn't fight the anger he felt welling up inside.  
Does he not understand the lives he puts at risk every week by simply not staying put? His own included?!  
Snotlout jumped up from hiding with his teeth gritting and a fury in his light blue narrowed eyes, ready to blow his cover in order to give that reckless idiot a piece of his mind.  
"You?! Facing a dragon alone, are you serious?!"  
Though Astrid had been stumped and speechless at first, she quickly recovered and went on a tirade, just narrowingly not noticing the shorter teen eavesdropping on their private conversation. She had eyes for only one Viking right now.  
Snotlout was glad at least someone shared his thoughts on the matter.  
"I know it's-it's a bit crazy, but-" But nothing! If he had sleeves, Snotlout would roll them up, clear his throat, grabbed his cousin by the collar, and told him 'No!'. Clearly someone hasn't done that yet.  
But as one of Berk's best and youngest cornered the blacksmith with a newly sharpened weapon, Snotlout promptly decided staying hidden for a little while longer would probably be for the best.  
Naturally, Astrid would never dare to use something as flimsy as an axe on his powerful muscles that could take on any dragon barehanded, but he thought it was wiser not to put that theory to the test.  
His heart pounding at nearly being caught meant nothing.  
"'A bit crazy'? Hiccup, you can barely step outside of your house during a raid without collapsing!" Finally someone said it! Probably should have mentioned all the people he endangers while doing said dangerous and stupid things.  
"Now hold-hold on. 'Collapsing' isn't exactly what-" Shut up, Hiccup.  
"You freeze up, turn yourself into an easy meal, can't fight back even when a Monstrous Nightmare comes diving down for you in a blaze. And you want to go out there and face them without help?! Are you insane!"  
Couldn't have said it better himself! Though he probably would have also mentioned he had a hand in heroically chasing that dragon away when it came for his cousin.  
Snotlout would have smirked the smug kind in a way he had perfected over the years upon hearing no response coming from Hiccup. That is, if it wasn't for Astrid's axe gleaming dangerously in her hand keeping him from blowing his cover completely.  
At last someone was smacking some sense into him, though not in a literal sense, which is exactly what a Jorgenson would have done.  
"I never said I would be alone, Astrid. I-I have been touchy about the next expedition because I want to join my father and the others." 'Well, tough, 'cause you're not going. Ever!' is what the huff leaving Snot seemed to say.  
"I'd have dad right there to help me. And isn't making sure that I'm safe what you both want? I'll be surrounded by Vikings there to begrudgingly keep me from harm. Totally safe!" Everybody on Berk, and even some of the other tribes very familiar with one Hiccup Haddock, knew this young man's definition of 'safety' couldn't be entirely trusted. He could feel his head shaking as his arms crossed, completely into a discussion he wasn't even truly a part of.  
"Astrid, please." Something seemed to change in Hiccup's voice just then. The broad shouldered boy recognized it as a plead.  
Everybody knew that was something a Viking just didn't do. Even for Hiccup, a beg or a request of pity or compassion was unheard off. This was a first.  
A Viking didn't plead. In that case, Hiccup had always been as much a Viking as any other Hooligan in their tribe. Until that morning apparently.  
"I... I need this, Astrid. Maybe if I can have just one person to tell me that I'm not absolutely insane to think of such a plan... You know, someone to support this and help me convince my dad?" Astrid's only answer was silence and much like him, Snotlout guessed she wouldn't give in.  
Yet, there was a part of him that strangely enough felt like he was being spoken too directly. Like that request wasn't only for Astrid to answer to.  
Which is impossible. His hiding skills were far too perfect for him to ever be discovered by the likes of common men. There's no way Hiccup was supposed to know he was even there.  
The Jorgenson stayed and continued to listen.  
"Please... Let me have this. I need to redeem myself. I need control over my life back. Don't let them take everything from me for good."  
Snotlout, for reasons unknown to him, found himself made speechless as he thought that last part over in his head and discovered hearing this was quite discomforting to him. He don't know why, it just did.  
It was at this point that he decided to call it quits. As Hiccup tried to resume his work and Astrid attempted other topics to discuss, the hidden teen came out of hiding and left. Briefly had his steel blue eyes locked with Hiccup's, both the living green and the hauntingly lifeless one that still send chills down his spine even to this day.  
He was angry as he stomped away. No, seething even!  
At the dragons, at Hiccup for never listening and never giving up, at himself for feeling compelled by the broken young man's deepest desires and needs.  
Didn't he understand? Didn't he see all the lives he put at stake every single time he set foot outside of his home during a raid with the so-called intention to save his reputation and face in front of the village? Snotlout himself was still walking around with a burn on his thigh that could have been prevented if he hadn't needed to chase off that Nightmare!  
It was only because Elder Gothi's knowledge of healing, an understanding that went far beyond the minds of mortal men, that the pain his unknown attempt at saving another's ass was bearable today! Not that the burn was severe enough to render him incapacitated for longer than a day or two, though it certainly could have been a lot worse!  
"Hey, Snotman there you are!"  
"We were just wondering why you weren't at breakfast. You know the Chief's gonna hog it all day for a meeting right?"  
The near identical twins doomed up in the distance, having apparently not yet grown impatient and bored when their semi-friend took longer than expected to show up.  
Snotlout's frown was etched deeply onto his facial features and even Ruff and Tuff shared a look as they watched him coming.  
'Fine then.' He seemed to conclude in his mind.  
If Hiccup wouldn't listen to Astrid or even their Chief, his own father, than Snotlout would have a stern talking with him.  
It was about time that runt of a Viking knew his place.  
Upon reaching the twins, Snotlout promptly punched one of them in the face to vent his own frustrations with a certain assistent of Gobber's, hoping it was the male one he hit.

_He could still smell the pines of the trees all around him, could feel the light drizzle of rain gradually soaking through his clothes, was shivering from the chill of another cloudy day of this late Fall._  
_His heart pounded and loud, laboured breaths left. They were the only sounds he heard besides his hurried footsteps on the forest floor. His mind was wild with panic._  
_Through the woods of Ravenpoint he ran and ran, trees he dodged left and right, stumbling occasionally over a root, a rock, or even his own two feet._  
_He couldn't escape. It wouldn't let him. Each time he looked back, the monster was always there, ready to devour him._  
_He could only catch glimpses of the shadowy mass chasing him between the trees, could hear twigs snap and branches break under its weight, and felt the wind rushing in his face. Still running towards home as fast as his spindly limbs could manage, he felt surrounded._  
_It would never let him escape. Vikings weren't meant to meet this creature and live to tell the tale. But for him there wasn't even any time to hide and pray it wouldn't find him, because it always would._  
_And then it pounced._  
_He screeched a scream that didn't even sound human to him anymore as it tore into him and all he could see was that piercingly yellow glare amidst the darkest black._

"Hey... Hey!" A rude voice followed by the clattering of knives is what woke Hiccup up from another nightmare.  
Still trembling, he took his gaze off the shield with the Night Fury's silhouette painted on top of its wooden surface, Hiccup's eyes came to settle on a familiar pair of blue and in an instance did he let out a mental groan.  
"Snotlout." He simply acknowledged the other teen, not caring enough to hide his dissatisfaction.  
The taller one of the Vikings took a look around himself and found that he was still standing in the forge and not the deep, dense woods outside of the village. It wasn't a particularly grey day either as the sun was shining.  
It was late in the afternoon and technically Hiccup wasn't supposed to be here. Work was done for now and Gobber could be seen conversing with fellow Viking men. He had only briefly attended the meeting Chief Stoick held before returning here to aid his apprentice with the repairs. After all, it wasn't anything he hadn't heard before.  
But work was done and that was the only reason why Hiccup had the time to take a look at some of his old work. His earlier talk with Astrid, though it had grown into an argument, had piqued his interest.  
"Uhm, hello?! Your customer is right here! Just because you're all freakishly tall now doesn't mean you can go ahead and ignore me!" A certain cousin of his demanded his undivided attention.  
"Freakishly?" Hiccup asked, none too amused at the comment.  
At least his height was something noteworthy.  
"Well, duh! You've outgrown everyone, even Fishlegs! And that while I was supposed to be the tall one!" He was, once upon a time, the tallest of their generation, save for the dragon-obsessed husky boy of the Ingermans, who's height matched his width.  
What went wrong in his puberty is something not one member of House Jorgenson understood.  
"Does your visit have a point or are you just here to rant about the one thing that did go well for me?" Hiccup asked with an exasperated sigh, evidently not in the mood to be toyed with.  
When was he ever, really?  
"Uh yeah, my daggers need some work!" Snotlout picked the small weapons up from the counter to wave them in front of the apprentice, who took them from him and studied them both for anything that needed fixing without smothering his agitation.  
"Any particular reason you have the old daggers from Ruffnut and Tuffnut? You do know they had these made with their initials because of that one argument years ago, right?" Hiccup eyed the other, not at all being subtle as he expressed his suspicions.  
Sometime ago, the twins had gotten into a fight that went pretty far, even for them. Hiccup didn't know the details as he was still locked in the house at the time, but apparently the two had gotten sick having to share everything they owned with one another. They didn't have anything that they couldn't call 'mine'. Everything was 'ours' to them.  
So Gobber, at the expenses of their parents who's perspective on life were looking bleaker and bleaker the longer their argument continued, had made them these two daggers.  
"They... Uh.. You know... That's none of your business!" Was the final reply and Hiccup rolled his eyes.  
He might aswell take a look. He might not have had a hand in making them, but he was qualified enough to repair them.  
Except there was nothing wrong with either of them.  
The steel wasn't bend or broken, the hilt was still okay, the blade wasn't dull enough to be sharpened.  
So why had Snotlout come?  
Giving the shorter man a stern look that spoke volumes of how he wasn't going to deal with Snot's bullying and taunting if that was what he had come for, Hiccup handed the weapons back and crossed his arms.  
It wasn't often that he glared, but for him he made an exception.  
"Now tell me the truth. Why did you really come here?" Haddock asked the Jorgenson and he didn't do it kindly.  
Snotlout returned the glare at having the knives pushed harmlessly back into his hold and fumed.  
Hiccup wanted the truth? Oh, he'll get it alright!  
"You wanna know why I'm here? I'm here to tell you, you should just stop it already, Hiccup!" And so started the second outburst he would have to endure that day.  
"Accept you're not the heir anymore and stop putting yourself in danger! You think people are gonna keep saving you for the rest of your life? Well, they're not! Someday they're gonna wake up and realize it's pointless to save someone with a death wish!" As soon as he brought up the currently unoccupied position of heir, Hiccup lost interest in this argument as he leant with his right hand on the wooden surface of the counter now next to him and the left on his hip.  
He could only hope the other young man would soon finish so he could start tidying up here and go home for an enjoyable dinner in uncomfortable silence with his father.  
"You think it's fun to save your sorry behind? That we like it when one of our own is so desperate to prove himself he'd willingly throw himself right at the dragons? Someday you're gonna get hurt! Other people are gonna get hurt! I got hurt!" It was at that moment Hiccup's eyes seemed to pop open at what Snot said last.  
Now that was something he needed to know more about.  
"Wait, what do you mean you got-"  
"Screw your reputation, screw your birthright, you should be glad that Night Fury even let you live! Do you know how many people survive an attack from the most elusive and dangerous dragon of the Archipelago? None! That's how many!" Snotlout did not let him speak.  
"Hold on, 'Lout, when did you get-" The rant continued without mercy.  
"You should count yourself lucky! You should thank the Gods for favoring you that day!" Much like Astrid before him, Snotlout made sure to try and corner him, keep him from running from this confrontation.  
As if Hiccup ever made a move to do so. He wasn't backing away even as his much stouter cousin came stalking closer.  
"Snotlout, wait! Stop!" And much like earlier today, not a word Hiccup said could dissuade the other from speaking. The opportunity to speak of his concerns is something that he was denied.  
"Who cares if you're the heir or not?! You're gonna be a full-time blacksmith now, deal with it!" As if he had a problem with that. Hiccup felt a bit of his worry dissipate when Snot's shouting continued and the want to make him stop took priority.  
"Snotlout!" He called his cousin's name, but another thing Jorgensons were good at was not listening.  
"Instead of getting all touchy and teary-eyed because your dad kicked you out of that position, you should do your job just like the rest of us!" Whatever Hiccup had to say, it was of no interest to him. He didn't dare let his words be silenced by this dangerous fool.  
Honestly, this rant was doing a better job of angering arguebly one of the more patient people on Berk than it was urging him to reflect on his past actions. He could feel it bubbling at the back of his throat.  
"'Lout!"  
"You're not a dragon killer, you're not the heir, you're never gonna be chief! You have nothing to prove! So stop putting yourself and others at risk for something as shallow as-"  
"SNOTLOUT!"  
As the unfinished shield fell to the floor with a clatter and the yelling stopped with one angry shout, silence returned in the forge. Snotlout, panting, was left to stare at his relative, who was angrier than he had ever seen him before.  
Life on Berk was slowing down as the remaining people who hadn't gone to the meeting were finishing up their work while the sun slowly set, but many of the onlookers had stopped to stare. Even Gobber took a peek inside the forge, the surprisingly loud voice of his usually more reserved apprentice startling him.  
Hiccup hated how there was never any privacy in this village.  
"How many more times do I have to tell you?" His voice broke even after that one loud yell.  
Thor, wasn't there anything he could handle?  
"I don't care if I'm the heir or not. I never even cared about being chief in the first place!" At least now he was being listened to in this tense silence, if anything ever managed to get through a Jorgenson's thick skull. Particularly this Jorgenson's.  
"All I ever wanted was to prove to my father and the village that one stupid dragon didn't scar me for life!" Even though it clearly had.  
Snotlout's brow knitted together in a furrowed frown.  
"I love blacksmithing. Anyone who's ever handled my work knows this. I just can't stand the fact that everyone I know feels the need to protect and shelter me as if seeing a small Terror is enough to do me in. I'm more than this. I'm more than just something that needs to be fixed. That's all I want to prove." Besides the lack of privacy in Berk, Hiccup also could not stand how he was becoming so emotional. And that in front of the one person he didn't want to be caught by like this.  
"I want to be worthy of my father, of Astrid, of my village. Heir or not, it doesn't matter so long as I can be a Viking they can be proud off. That's all. It's been my goal for years and once upon" Hiccup had a way of showing much emotion without shedding any actually tears and it was causing a knot to form in Snotlout's gut.  
"It's been my goal for years and once upon a time I was so close. Until... that... happened. I can't even start from the very beginning anymore." Dragon Training. Snotlout knew immediately what Hiccup was talking about.  
As he stared up to the lanky figure that would surely be taller if he didn't have such a hunched and introverted posture, it all suddenly made sense.  
Pieces of some puzzle Snotlout wasn't even aware he was trying to solve fell into place and his grip on the daggers became tighter.  
Hiccup never cared about regaining his birthright. Of course he never did, that much was clear now! This was all about a man trying to prove his worth his way and no one was letting him. Hiccup wanted to rub it in all their faces that he wasn't broken and that, even if he was, he could fix himself just fine.  
He didn't need a bunch of overbearing people to collectively keep him sheltered and safe because they cared too much to lose him too.  
He needed an opportunity. A chance.  
The shorter man sneered as he let go of the daggers on the counter and turned to stomp away, abruptly cutting their verbal fight short and leaving behind a Hiccup now stunned and confused.  
His feet were dragging him somewhere. Where he wasn't quite sure off, but he still kept on going. His 'stern talking' with Hiccup had only made him even angrier.  
Angrier and somehow both determined and defeated.  
Snotlout was still a painfully immature youth, but there was a part of him egging him on and pushing him towards what seemed to be the Great Hall. It was something inside himself he wasn't at all familiar with.  
People were now leaving through the two long, great doors standing within the strong face of the mountain. The meeting seemed to have ended and clearly not in their favour. Some looked beaten, others a little peeved, while there were also those who looked resolute.  
Once again no one had been able to sway Stoick the Vast's mind to decide against another search.  
But light blue eyes were scanning the several different bearded and hairless faces of the crowd to find only one man.  
And he found him soon.  
"There you are, boy-o! Ya missed the entire meeting! I put in a good word for you with the Chief. You're gonna come with us on the search!" A taller and slightly broader man the near spitting image of Snotlout approached him, grinning from ear to ear at a job well done of whispering into the Chief's ear about how amazing his son was and what this perfect picture of pure Vikingness could mean to their expedition.  
But Snotlout wasn't as happy as his father, Spitelout, thought he'd be upon hearing such good news and so his own excited grin waned. Instead it was replaced by a cautious frown.  
"Dad, can we talk about the upcoming search for the Dragon's Nest?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, this argument was a little harder to write than the one in the previous chapter. And I promise, this confrontation between Hiccup and Snot is for a reason!  
> Also, I have never written Snotlout before. How did you guys think my first attempt went? :D


	8. An Opportunity Arises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this chapter took a little while. Well, it took much longer than I would've liked, but it's finally here!

"Well, ye sure know how ta speak yer mind, 'Iccup."  
Said young man looked up from the chore of cleaning up after himself when he heard his name being called and gazed up at the limping blacksmith hobbling his way back into the forge, apparently concluding whatever talk he had been having with those Viking men just moments ago before his outburst in front of Snotlout. Though it was minor compared to all the yelling Snot and Astrid had been doing earlier.  
"Well..." Was what he settled with as he resumed with the task at hand, voice quickly fading as he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to reply to that one. Losing his temper like that wasn't one of his proudest moments.  
"Are you sure yer position bein' given away by yer father isn't botherin' you? You seemed to harp on it quite a lot." Gobber had noticed of course. That old blacksmith somehow always did.  
Placing his unfinished project down on the counter again, Hiccup faced his mentor.  
He just hoped this wouldn't also turn into another argument. That would make it his third one today alone and then he would start to wonder if he had once again picked up the incredible art of angering people without ever really trying.  
"Not that I want to talk about it, which I really don't, but wouldn't anyone be at least a little bit upset to hear that they're no longer good enough and need to be replaced? That's gotta sting, right?" Hiccup asked, facing the older Viking with crossed arms as he leant back.  
"Sure it does, which is why I'm wonderin' if maybe you're not so over it yerself yet, no matter how much ye claim you are." Grabbing a brush with thin metal pins and switching from his usual hammer prosthetic, Gobber began his daily task of keeping every Viking man's pride groomed and brushed.  
What a disgrace he would be if he didn't?  
Now a bath to rid himself of the thick stench of sweat, metal, and smoke? That was a different story all together.  
"I meant what I told Snotlout, Gobber. I never wanted to be the heir and I never wanted to be chief. So yes, I'm over it. End of discussion." Hiccup figured it was a smart idea to mutter as his answer came to a finish. He would rather not pick a fight with this particular Viking man.  
Not only was he his teacher in blacksmithing, but he was also the one to give him Dragon Training. Gobber had authority over every youngster he trained, in his own peculiar way. Weither they were adults now or still growing, that mattered not.  
But picking up the shield to put it away out of sight brought another unpleasant question in mind, one Hiccup didn't dare ask himself out loud.  
Why hadn't he burned this either?  
There was something he wasn't over yet after all, but it wasn't what Gobber and Snotlout, or possibly anyone else, seem to be thinking. And yet it was still so glaringly obvious. As if it were mocking him.  
The elder Viking gave him a sympathetic smile when his apprentice's gaze would not leave the shield and even without looking at him did Hiccup know it was that all-knowing one he had perfected over the years.  
Gobber probably knew him better than his own father did.  
Which wasn't all that difficult.  
Finally deciding to put the shield somewhere out of sight, Hiccup tore his gaze away and took it with him to his room in the back where he was hiding a few more of his unfinished creations. Maybe having it out of sight could do him some good.  
"Ye want me ta let ye in on a lil' secret, lad?" Gobber asked to catch the attention of his apprentice again. The mentor figured it wouldn't hurt to lift his assistent's spirits a little.  
Hiccup, curious, poked his head out of his private little study, one eyebrow raised.  
The sun was sinking lower and lower in the sky and less Berkians were still out now, even with the meeting only just ending. This was probably as much privacy as you could get. Unless you braved the forests and mountains outside of Berk, which was where all kinds of wild animals lurked. The occasional fire breathing dragon included.  
As the young man left his personal study to join the blacksmith, Gobber quickly swung an arm around his shoulder to pull the tall youth closer.  
"Ever wondered why yer father pubicly announced yer loss of position, but never followed it up with the announcement of a replacement?" Hiccup shook his head at this question he was asked, though he did wonder now that Gobber brought it up.  
"It's 'cause Stoick doesn't have one. The Jorgensons may be fishin' and clawin' with their grubby 'ands to put Snotlout in a position the poor boy will never be able to handle, but so far the chief has yet to give in. 'E's to stubborn!" It was hard for the man to miss the wide-eyed surprised expression Hiccup pulled. It almost gave him a childlike innocence.  
"'E wants only one successor and that's you. 'Is son and 'is blood. The man just doesn't know how to deal with another 'eartache if somethin' were to 'appen to ye, that's all." Gobber's voice was soft and gentle in a way only he could speak, ensuring that this was something for Hiccup's ears only, something the boy needed to hear.  
"If you're serious about provin' yerself, start with 'im instead of the entire village all at once. Next time Stoick tells ye somethin', take a moment to listen instead of followin' his example and not listen at all." It was friendly advice given with the best of intentions and Hiccup found himself appreciating it.  
This wasn't a blatant 'stop with whatever you're trying to do now like a good boy', but it was a 'maybe try it from this angle instead'. And it was why, out of all the overprotective people his inner circle now consisted of, Gobber will always be the one he liked talking to the most.  
Except, perhaps, for one certain Hofferson.  
Pulling away from his elder's embrace, Hiccup gave him the slightest hint of an honest smile.  
"Thank you, Gobber. I really appreciate it." He spoke of his gratitude and his smile was instantly returned.  
"Now run along! I can finish things up 'ere. You have a father ye need to get to before 'e gets worried again. Don't want a repeat of last year, now do we?" The blacksmith turned his back on Hiccup and he was off.  
No, that was indeed something he wouldn't want a repeat of.  
Last year the then seveteen year old had gotten a little too engrossed in his work at the forge and had failed to meet with his father for dinner. What followed was the mountain of a man ordering the village and the forest to be combed through for the son that never even left his place of work. The strangest part was, Astrid had been with him the entire time too.  
A series of apologies to the villagers who helped with the search and lectures about promises and time continuing long into the night was the result. As was the decision of a father who wanted to ground him like a child for worrying him so.  
It had been an odd and hectic day.  
Hiccup seemed to reach his home on the hill in record time, eager to try Gobber's strategy to win a little favour from his dad.  
But upon entering his house, his gaze caught not only the chief's, but also those of Spitelout and Snotlout Jorgenson.  
And not one of them was looking all too pleased to be there.

Hiccup wasn't quite sure what to expect now.  
His father, without speaking more than a few simple words in the grimmest tone possible, stated that the four of them needed to be at the Great Hall for dinner.  
Dinner and an announcement.  
Hiccup had no idea what the Chief of Berk wanted to tell everyone. What was so important and so dreadful that he'd wear such a weary and dark look escaped him completely. All Hiccup knew was that it could mean little good.  
Even Snotlout, who was walking next to him without objection for once, seemed unable to look at him. He looked almost angry with that frown and those narrowed eyes of his. It did little to help the anxiety he was starting to feel tighten his chest unbearably, urging him to adjust his old and trusty fur vest on his shoulders for some measly semblance of comfort.  
Aged as it was, though well taken care off, it didn't protect him from just the cold.  
There wasn't much that could get to his cousin. Emotionally he had always seemed like quite a dimwit. So to see him this troubled over something he was apparently entirely not aware of...  
It was quite discomforting to say the least.  
Neither one of the two or Spitelout were up for a chat. His father's brother, though they did not share the same paternal parent, shared Snot's almost angry look. And Stoick himself didn't look all that much better either.  
They wore the faces of men who were about to do something wrong against their will and Hiccup couldn't help but feel like he was at the center of this matter somehow.  
Granted, that was a feeling he was more familiar with than he would've liked to admit. And sadly, often for a valid reason too.  
On the way to the Great Hall, Hiccup had tried fruitlessly to strike up a conversation with the three men about pretty much anything that came to mind.  
The nice sunset painting Berk in a beautiful orange glow now that the grey clouds had gone, the rumours that Mr. and Mrs. Ack might be expecting another child, that the elusive singing Terrible Terror was once again spotted on the outskirts of the village, the fact that Mildew was probably going to be the cause for the lack of materials at the forge with all the work his old and useless tools required on a near daily basis. The usual stuff.  
But nothing caught on. Not even the subject of Mildew, who especially Snotlout liked to talk bad about at any given opportunity.  
Nothing worked and it certainly did not help ease his worried heart.  
The way to the hall carved from a large cave in the face of the Southern most mountain of Berk was a lonely one as not many people were still out. Some Berkians had decided to enjoy a homecooked meal in the comfort of their own houses while others ate with friends at the hall.  
Yet the road to their destination seemed both unbearably long and much too short. Hiccup had never before dreaded entering a place so familiar before.  
The moment Chief Stoick the Vast entered did all the jovial chattering quiet down as all sorts of wary faces stared at them and they did not start back up again. Bad news was clearly showing and it made every single one of them nervous in turn, their hearts thumping and hands instinctively wrapping around weapons that weren't there and clenching into fists.  
In a village torn by war at the claws of dragons or at the hands of enemy tribes, you learned to always think the worst when your chief looked so troubled.  
Without a single word spoken did Stoick make his way to the chief's usual seat at the far end of the hall at the longest table with wide strides befitting a Viking man of his stature, where he would have a view of everyone present. Hiccup followed to sit at his right hand's side, where the heir was supposed to sit, and tried not to make eye contact with anyone, lest he be found as the source of his father's foul mood.  
Once they were seated the murmuring began again, but no one was as at ease as they were before father and son entered together with the Jorgensons, who joined Snotlout's mother and three younger siblings.  
Hiccup's eyes met Astrid's through the crowd. Though as ignorant about this as he was, she couldn't help but look tense aswell.

It was only after a rather tense and remarkably quiet dinner that the Chief of Berk spoke up.  
The talking in the Great Hall had picked up again by then and the mood had become lighter, but the same cheer and joy from before was gone. It had made for a very un-berkian-like meal for all of them. When Stoick the Vast decided to rise up from his seat, his mere presence was all that was needed to call for attention. That in and of itself was a rare occurence in any Viking settlement.  
The man, as tall as he was broad, was an intimidating sight, always had been. Some had wondered how a man of his size and reputation could ever be gentle with a son like Hiccup. The stern look of a Viking chief with years of experience under his belt only made the sight of him even more awe-inspiring.  
So when he spoke, his people listened.  
"For little over twenty years have I been the Chief of Berk. I have served and protected my people with all my might, just like my father before me and the chief before him. It has always been my pleasure, my humble duty." His booming voice echoed through the Great Hall as he gave his speech. There was not a single whisper to be heard, though tensions were rising again.  
And Hiccup could feel it too.  
Little over an hour ago, Gobber had reminded the boy of just how important he was to his father. He told him how Stoick could never imagine ever having an heir besides his own son, but grief and fear kept him from fullfilling the dreams he had for his only child, lest he lose him like his mother.  
Now Hiccup wasn't so sure anymore and he could feel that familiar sensation of anxiety creeping into his chest and clenching around his heart like an iron fist. He had to remind himself to breathe, to not let his thoughts run wild, and not draw his own conclusions so quickly. After all, his father often talked about his own career as chief, right?  
And yet, he couldn't help but think, and fear, that this announcement would serve to finally make Snotlout's position as heir official. It would explain why the Jorgensons were at his house earlier and why his father wore such a dark look this evening.  
'The position doesn't matter to me.' Hiccup Haddock tried to tell himself and he honestly wasn't lying. Not completely. But his relationship with his father had been strained for as long as he could remember, a part of him worried that this would only finalize the rift between them.  
His eyes searched for Astrid's and he found that she was already gazing back at him. Was she sharing his concerns? He couldn't quite read her expression.  
"I have always been proud of what we accomplish, of how many generations have fought in our tireless war against the dragons, of how far we've come since we first sailed to Berk so long ago. Every single one of us has done their part to help our village live and thrive in these hard times. Everyone, but one." As Stoick continued to speak, briefly beaming as he spoke of his honest and hardworking people, Hiccup could almost feel every eye in the room fall on him.  
He dreaded what would come next. Every living soul present knew the Chief was talking about him. He was the odd one out. Always had been, ever since he could crawl.  
"Hiccup..." That his father now addressed him directly didn't help and they were all expecting him to stand up and face him. No matter how much his heart was pounding, that's what he did.  
"Dad..." It was all Hiccup could say. Any other word, audible or otherwise, was choked out of him by this awful suspense.  
"Son, three years ago a devil of a Night Fury had wronged you, tricked you, attacked you, and left you for dead." How delightful to be so bluntly reminded of such a dark time in his young life in front of all these people, of the worst mistake he's ever made.  
"You were at death's door for days, but somehow you pulled through and lived to see your eighteenth birthday, the day when any Viking boy on Berk becomes a man." This wasn't about who would become the successor, that much was clear now. To him, to everyone now seated or standing in the Great Hall.  
It helped relieve some of the anxiety he felt and Hiccup found himself breathing a little easier.  
"Son, you're eighteen now and it's time that you prove yourself a Viking worthy of the Berkian name. It has come to my attention, that I have been... Ah, depriving you of any chance to do so. And that is not fair. Not to you or to anyone." Stoick was growing hesitant and he briefly glanced towards the table where the Jorgensons were seated, where a certain cousin was trying his best not to care at all about this public and relevant exchange between father and son. It was an act caught only by his son.  
But his father continued, despites curious whispers now surfacing here and there, and finally arrived at the point of his speech.  
"This is why, with great difficulty, that I announce that my son, Hiccup Haddock the Third, will be joining us on our last search of the Nest before Winter!" This was the announcement Stoick the Vast had dreaded to make and the reactions were instantaneous.  
"But Chief, the boy isn't a dragon killer!"  
"He'll never make it back home!"  
"He might get others killed!"  
There was an uproar in the Great Hall as soon as the Chief finished his speech. They were rightfully worried, Hiccup had never proven himself much of a fighter even in Dragon Training, and so they protested.  
This expedition wasn't for the faint of heart, it wasn't for those who could not defend themselves on the battlefield. The incompetence of one could easily cost the life of another. So the people of Berk made their voices known.  
But Stoick had no ear for any of their complaints. Instead all he saw was the smile appearing on his son's face, the happiest he's seen in three years. Even the boy did not let the oppinions of others, often whispered behind his back and this time shouted in his very presence, get to him for once.  
They were now white noise in the background.  
The Viking Chief breathed a deep sigh and briefly rubbed through his tired eyes with one large hand. He had been dreading the decision he had taken when Spitelout's eldest, Snotlout, had come to him with a most unusual request, unusually thoughtful that is, but witnessing his only boy this happy for the first time in much too long made him forget the concerns plaguing his mind and the conflicting emotions troubling his heart.  
If for just one peaceful moment.  
"You know what this means, don't you, Hiccup?" The broad man asked, bringing their attention to the conditions attached to this surprising change of heart.  
For once Hiccup was more than eager to listen.  
"You stay close to me and listen to every word I tell you. Don't make any unauthorised decisions by yourself. You will not leave the watchful eye of me, Snotlout, or Astrid. You will not engage a single dragon unless I tell you otherwise. You wanted a chance and I'm giving it to you. Just make sure that I won't regret it, son." Hiccup grew more excited with every word his father spoke. His earlier anxiety forgotten, he had a hard time standing still.  
He could not believe this. After all this time, after everything he's been through, after all he's done, his chance to prove himself a worthy Viking to his village had finally come.  
Hiccup was going along on the search.  
Astrid looked petrified at Stoick's decision and Snotlout didn't look up for a celebration, but both went ignored as Hiccup answered to their chief.  
"Oh, you won't! I'll-I'll be a model Viking, dad. A model son! You won't even know I'm there unless you need me!" There was something about seeing his son so eager, so ecstatic, that made Stoick the Vast smile.  
It wasn't often that the two got along, their were just much too different, but at least for tonight, he saw a small glimpse of his boy again. And that was all Stoick needed to silence his conscience.  
As the announcement was received with mixed oppinions, Hiccup's mind ran wild and his emotions were high.  
His moment of redemption was finally in his grasp. Within days he could prove himself to his dad, to Astrid, to his village and his life could go back to normal. That Night Fury will plague him no more.  
And the best part?  
It was his cousin, the one who had singlehandedly tried to make his life on Berk even more difficult for thirteen years straight, the well-known bully of Berk, Snotlout Jorgenson, who had made this possible by pulling strings unwilling to listen to him.  
Hiccup did not dare to seek for any possible underlying intentions, for he was much too happy, much too grateful.  
For the first time since his recovery, since he was allowed a foot outside of his own home, his future had a glimmer of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the reason why this chapter took so long was because I had some trouble with Stoick's announcement. I wasn't quite sure how to write it.  
> Also, yes, I am aware that Viking children were technically considered 'adults' around the age of fifteen and not eighteen like in this fic, I've been told they were basically tiny adults in their eyes, but that was something I found out after already starting this fic and establishing certain things.


	9. Goodbye For Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the most frustrating thing happened as I finished this chapter.  
> After experiencing weeks of a lack of inspiration on how to do this chapter, I was suddenly hit with the motivation to write and finish it within a day. It was while I had almost finished spellchecking the thing that my laptop crashed and I lost the entire file!  
> After crying myself to sleep that night (not a drama queen, I swear) I got right back to writing it and it actually turned out better than my previous version! And longer too!

The following days on Berk were of the hectic sort.  
As the next search for the Dragon's Nest came closer preparations had to be made. That meant weapons needed to be sharpened, supplies needed to be gathered, and ships needed to be made ready. Every capable warrior on Berk hurried to get everything done in time and those that were able helped them in any way they could. Even children did their very best to do what the adults expected of them.  
But there were always those that prefered to be a pain in the rear-end than to help.  
"Chief Stoick is making a grave mistake! Hiccup Haddock shouldn't go on that search!" Mildew screeched across the plaza, purposefully standing opposite to the forge where a certain blacksmith and his apprentice worked to fulfill the quota on weapons and shields this afternoon.  
Or were supposed to work. This particular villager could be quite distracting if he demanded your attention and Mildew was wailing for Hiccup's.  
"The Gods will be angered! That boy was attacked by the Offspring of Lightning and Death Itself and yet he lived! This is a bad omen, he's cursed! Bring him along and his mere presence will curse the ships and our men!" The man preached, even though no one was really listening as they went about their day.  
Many had protested against their Chief's decision at first, but most had come to accept it. Who were they to argue against Stoick's wishes? Besides, they had better things to do than to stand there and listen to an old man. Though, there were still a few who had a hard time ignoring him.  
"He's been standing there and preaching for an hour now, doesn't he ever get tired?" Hiccup asked as he leant on the counter with an elbow, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as he looked through the window. Gobber was standing next to him, hand and prosthetic firmly set in his waist as he watched the shipwreck of a show unfolding before them.  
"Doesn't look like it. Ye know how boar-headed that man can be sometimes." Gobber wasn't too amused by this either. He looked on with a scowl.  
"Yeah, I know. I just wish he'd put all that energy in his cabbages instead. That is at least more productive than this! And it would keep him out of the village! He was there when my dad became chief, right? He's gotta know by now that Stoick the Vast doesn't just change his mind." Accompanied by the usual wild gesturing of his one free hand, Hiccup rightfully complained about Mildew's insistence before tearing himself away from the sight.  
It was only because of Gobber that he did.  
The blacksmith grabbed a sword with its blade warped by the fires of a dragon in a more recent raid, one of the few that still needed work. If that sword was still useful. They needed all the steel they could carry on this dragon hunting trip.  
"Ye know what? How about ye go ahead and see if there is somethin' yer old man needs ye for? I can 'andle the rest, so there's no need for you to stick around and listen to Mildew." Gobber spoke and with his free hand patted Hiccup on the shoulder as he pulled him away from the old man's preaching.  
"Are you sure you don't need me anymore?" Hiccup wasn't just going to leave if there was still work to be done. Not now at least.  
"Very sure. Now hop along. I can finish today's work by myself." He shooed his apprentice out of the forge and Hiccup didn't fight him on it.  
"Pfft! Cursed." The boy repeated as he left. He thought the very notion of it was ridiculous, though he did not doubt he must've wronged the Gods in some way to be graciously granted such amounts of misfortune.  
But he did as he was told and left Gobber behind to finish up. He wanted to search for his father as suggested and see if there was something he could do for him, but Hiccup didn't make it all that far down the road before he was stopped by a familiar voice bearing a round, friendly face.  
"Hiccup?"  
Turning to look at who had spoken his name, Hiccup came to face a large young man, one of the only other few Vikings on Berk who was as tall as he was broad. Though it didn't at all derive from his plump and kind features.  
"Fishlegs! What can I do you for?" Hiccup greeted him with a smile, one that was swiftly returned.  
Just like Astrid, Snotlout, and the Thorston twins, Fishlegs Ingerman had also participated in Dragon Training that year. He had always been a big and sturdy boy ever since he was born. Many friends of the Ingermans, Stoick the Vast included, had often stated how he would become a prime example of a true Viking before he could even walk!  
Those promises turned out to be empty ones when the boy grew up to be soft-hearted and mild-mannered, but his parents were never any less proud of him. The Ingermans were kind people.  
"You're more chipper than usual, Hiccup. You're really excited to join the search in a few days, aren't you?" Fishlegs asked him, his own mood growing brighter as he was genuinely happy to see Hiccup in a cheerier mood for once.  
His hands were behind his back and in them he held the reason why he had decided to approach the blacksmith-in-training. It was also why he was so nervous.  
"Well, can you blame me? Dad is finally giving me the chance to prove myself and this time I won't fail." Hiccup spoke with a kind of determination he hadn't felt in a long time. In the past he had often messed up, though it wasn't always in his control. For once things would be different.  
"Yeah, about that..." Fishlegs' voice trailed off and not in a way that Hiccup liked.  
With his arms crossed in front of his chest did he watch the broader boy pull out what he had been hiding and it was a familiar leather bound book with the image of a Monstrous Nightmare on its decorated front.  
The Book of Dragons.  
"I was wondering, since you're going away soon, if we could take another look at this? Just the two of us? For old time's sake! And to prepare you." Fishlegs suggested as he offered the book to Hiccup, who took it and stared down at the image of the dragon on the cover.  
How long hadn't it been since he had last held this book? Or even seen it?  
He remembered, quite vividly so, that one of his arms had been bandaged and in a sling back then.  
Thor, it really has been a long time.  
"So... What do you say, Hiccup?" Fishlegs pulled him back out of his sea of thoughts. Hiccup hadn't even noticed his mind had wandered again.  
"You know what? Let's do it. Right now, just the two of us, in the Great Hall." Hiccup forced his lips to curl up into a smile.  
He just had to remind himself that things would be different soon.  
Fishlegs, upon hearing Hiccup agree to his plan, could hardly contain his excitement.

The two young men found themselves a quiet spot at an empty table near the large fire build in the centre of the Great hall to keep the space dimly lit during the day. There were not too many people present during this time of the afternoon, which would change once dinner was prepared in the kitchens.  
For now, the hall made for a good place where one could touch up their knowledge on dragons with a peer.  
"Now this is the Timberjack! With Wings so strong and so sharp that they can even cut through the thick trunk of a full-grown tree! Our nets and even the metal dome of the Kill Ring can barely contain this dragon. Their wingspans are huge too!" Fishlegs rattled on about the reptile that was their current topic of discussion with an excitement that was almost palpable. It made Hiccup smile to see him so giddy.  
That Fishlegs was absolutely fascinated by the scaled beasts was no secret. Often enough did conversations with him end up being about them, particularly about the Gronckle.  
"Oh, and here's the Scauldron! This dragon has the ability to heat the water in its throat pouch or stomach up to boiling temperatures, which it then sprays at its victims. Many Vikings and traders have fallen prey to it when coming across one at sea. It's extremely dangerous!" The two moved on to end up on the page of the Scauldron and Fishlegs was more than happy to read what its pages contained.  
Hiccup sat next to him and listened with a slight grimace of discomfort, his brows furrowed.  
Death by scalding hot water, what a way to go. Hiccup almost felt like he'd gotten off easy if his fate had been a fatal one.  
Then again, exactly how much 'easier' had he gotten off? There were places in his body that ached when it was too cold outside and cold was the only available climate here in the Archipelago, he couldn't see in his right eye, scars littered his body...  
Hiccup found himself sighing deeply.  
These were happier days and still he could rarely stop thinking about the bad.  
Fishlegs continued to talk about what he could now only assume was the Scauldron as his exact words seemed to elude him. Hiccup heard him talk, but the meaning of his words were foreign to him.  
"Next up is-"  
"The Changewing, right?" Hiccup guessed, cutting Fishlegs off a little louder than he had wanted to.  
He was right, judging by the picture of the strange dragon with its strangely shaped head, long neck, triangular wings, and the leaf-like shapes adorning its back all the way to its tail, but the other had still caught on.  
"Are you okay, Hiccup? Do you want me to stop?" Another overprotective Viking in his personal inner circle. Though, he wasn't exactly in the wrong to worry. Even while still paying attention had Hiccup kept an eye on the steady thinning of the pages, dreading what would come at the end.  
The funny thing was, that page was still a blank.  
Fishlegs was talking once more and skipped the Changewing in favour of the next dragon on the list, the Gronckle, which was usually his favourite. He kept a wary eye on his study buddy as he read out loud, though he could tell he wasn't quite with him.  
Hiccup had once been asked to fill that blank space with everything he knew. Gothi had told his father it would take a while before he could leave his bed, but the problem was that his boy could hardly sit still long enough.  
His fifteen year old self had quickly gotten tired of the four wooden walls of his home and he wanted to step outside to feel the sun on his skin and the breeze brush through his hair. He had, admittedly, become quite fussy.  
His father had requested this of him as a way to keep him pacified in the house for a little while longer so his wounds could heal properly. Back then Gothi hadn't even been sure yet of what was to become of his ruined eye. So Stoick had desperately hoped that a long stay in bed would help it get better. And he had told his son he would be helping the village if he shared his knowledge.  
Subconsciously did the currently eighteen year old teen wrap a hand around his right arm in discomfort as he gazed down on the yellowish pages of the book, which was no longer on the Gronckle, he vaguely seemed to notice.  
The last time he'd even seen that book was also the first time he had shut down. Coincidentally enough, the husky boy sitting and reading in the seat right next to him had been there then too.  
A younger Hiccup had been eager to work on something instead of waiting for the hours to pass by and hope someone would eventually come for a visit before he would be driven mad by the silence. Fishlegs had come by to bring him the Dragon Manual and all his notes on the Night Fury.  
One look at a coloured version of that thing's head was all it took. That was what had done him in.  
Those eyes...  
Hiccup wasn't sure what happened because all he remembered next was that he was suddenly lying on the hard wooden floorboards of his living room with his father calling his name in a panicked frenzy with eyes wider and more scared than he had ever seen them. Astrid, Gobber, and Fishlegs were in the background, each one of them wearing varying looks of fear and worry.  
He had never been so aware of his body's aching. It was almost as if it suddenly remembered, as if his numerous stitches had been ripped back open. Some of them even might have.  
That night was also when the bad dreams had started. Whatever lie he had been trying to tell himself after surviving past the first night, one glimpse had made reality crash down on him heavier than a solid rock. It was when his new fear of dragons had been discovered.  
"Hiccup!"  
The young man at the receiving end of that call jumped in his spot, visibly tensing when a heavy, but gentle, hand landed on his shoulder.  
Gazing at the other youth, Hiccup found two green eyes staring back at him momentarily. When they pulled away from him and the hand was taken back with a sigh, Fishlegs spoke up again.  
"I thought it would help to refresh your mind a bit before you left, but all I'm doing is making bad memories return, aren't I?" His words expressed an honest sadness while a finger aimlessly traced the page of the Whispering Death. Hiccup had no words to say as his eyes followed.  
"I just wanted it to be like old times, you know? Back during Dragon Training? When we used to sit at the table all evening and discuss dragons?" Unlike the huskier boy, he had grown silent. A suffocating kind of shame settled in the pit of his stomach.  
"I wanted us to be back the way we were. Before the Night Fury, when we were still friends. And before that night, when you suddenly drifted away from us and wouldn't let us in anymore." Fishlegs spoke with a kind of frustration Hiccup hadn't expected and he looked at the other in surprise.  
"Drifted away from you?" He asked as the old book was shut with a slam.  
"Well, yeah. We all tried to hang out with you, but you shut yourself in your room and barely came out of the house even when Stoick told us you could. You never opened the door for us anymore and told us to leave when we went in anyway." Yes, he vaguely remembered needing to be alone for a long time even after he had healed.  
He had wallowed in his own despair and fear. The question why this had happened to him remained unanswered no matter how much he tried to mull it over and it had been more than he could bear.  
But he had never meant to push them away.  
"We all missed you, you know. I know it took us a long time to give you a chance, but we had really got to know you during training and..." Fishlegs seemed unable to finish his sentence.  
This evening, one of the few that were still left before the voyage to the Nest, was supposed to be special. It was supposed to help rekindle the friendship that had briefly bloomed so long ago.  
Hiccup was speechless.  
They missed him? They mourned the time they hadn't spend together? Hated that they lost his friendship? That he shut them all out?  
Astrid had forced her way in as if she were invading a fortress all by herself. The twins still taunted, but Hiccup now realized they hadn't been as often as they once were. Snotlout had been trying to rile him up all this time just to get a reaction out of him. And Fishlegs, he tried patiently waiting until Hiccup came to him.  
They missed him and he hadn't even noticed.  
The Ingerman boy had grown silent and disliked the tense atmosphere that now hung at their table.  
But as he looked at the former heir, he noticed a bittersweet smile on his freckled face.  
"Hic-"  
"I'm sorry. You all waited for me, didn't you? Some in your own sick, twisted little way." Fishlegs was surprised to hear an apology. That wasn't why he had suggested this study session, but he found himself unable to interupt him.  
"I never realized... I was so obsessed with that Night Fury and questions I didn't have answers to that I was completely blind to the good that I still had in my life and I just... Fishlegs, let me make it up to you." He turned in his seat to face the other teen completely, swinging his leg over the bench.  
"From today on until the day I leave and from the day I return, let's make up for lost time. You, me, Astrid, Snotlout, and even Ruffnut and Tuffnut." Hiccup requested and Fishlegs felt a smile pull on his lips.  
"I would like that." Was his answer with a small smile and Hiccup pulled the Dragon Manual closer to open it again, facing the table once more.  
"We were at the Skrill, weren't we?" He asked with renewed energy.  
"Actually we were at the Whispering Death, but I think you spaced out after the Changewing, so let's start there." Fishlegs was in a considerably happier mood as he flipped through the pages, backtracking to an earlier reptile.

The two of them had spend the entire rest of the afternoon just like that. Studying dragons, talking about their weaknesses, discussing the upcoming trip for hours. Their session only ended when both of their stomachs growled hungrily in protest and Hiccup stated that he had to go meet with his father for dinner.  
It was time and food was prepared in the kitchens. The Vikings of Berk, those that did not feel like eating at home, steadily came pouring into the Great Hall looking for a meal.  
At one table sat a small group of five teenagers.  
"You should've seen the look on Not-So-Silent Sven's face when he went looking for his black sheep in the well and found a dozen of them instead!" Tuffnut bellowed with laughter together with his sister, who imitated the apparent look of utterly dumbfounded confusion the shepherd had worn.  
Opposite to them sat Astrid, Snotlout, and Fishlegs and they were less than amused upon hearing them tell of another one of their grand schemes, which they had already gotten in trouble for with the Chief.  
"It was priceless! And totally worth the time we spend on this 'project'. By the time Sven had gotten the real black sheep out, he was covered in black paint!" Ruffnut smacked her hand on the table as she snorted, adding to her brother's tale.  
"Is this seriously how you two want to spend the rest of your lives? By pranking innocent people in the name of Loki?" Astrid asked disapprovingly. Her meal went forgotten for the moment.  
"Uh, obviously." Came Ruff's answer before she took a bite out of her chicken, as if this should make perfect sense to her aswell.  
"My dear Astrid, the art of Loki'ing takes years of practice to perfect and we shan't ignore our talent for pranking." Tuff's answer wasn't much better.  
"It runs in our veins."  
"It is our very soul."  
"Our life would be meaningless if not for our dedication to Loki." The twins ended up finishing together, getting a simple 'muttonheads' out of Snotlout. Astrid was close to losing her temper, as was usually the case whenever she hung around the twins. The hand with which she held her spoon was already tightening into a fist.  
"Oh sweet baby Thor in a thunderstorm-"  
"Mind if I join you guys?" A high and nasal voice interrupted what would've most likely turned into another one of the shieldmaiden's rants and/or beating of the Thorston twins and the five looked up to the offender.  
All but Fishlegs were surprised to see Hiccup standing at their table, holding a bowl of mutton as he stood on two feet unable to stand still. He was clearly unsure of himself, but tried to give them a friendly smile.  
Snotlout was too stumped to speak, Astrid's look of surprise quickly melted into a happier one of her own, and the twins...  
Ruffnut scooted over to sit a bit closer to her brother and patted the now empty spot next to her.  
"Yeah, I guess we can let you join the cool kids again , but you'll have to hear about our great 'black sheep' plan." Tuff followed up as Hiccup moved to sit down next to his sister.  
"Oh my Thor!" Astrid sighed in exasperation, though her smile betrayed how happy she was to see Hiccup join them for dinner.  
The blacksmith-in-training shared a look with Fishlegs, who enjoyed his own food with glee now that he knew Hiccup had truly taken their talk to heart.  
For so long they had reached out and waited for him and he had never even realized it. Now he was finally reaching back for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* Pssst! The Search is coming soon and so is Toothless!


End file.
